The SRE seems to enjoy my company. Sometimes, at least. He woke up early for a game of golf this morning, and I was all ready for my walk. ( I actually managed to walk three days this week.) He invited me to come with him to his club, where I could walk, he could play golf, and then we could breakfast together.
It was great when he'd started learning golf, and was confined to the practice range. At least I'd know where he was, and could sit on a nearby bench and wait for him to finish. Now that he's out on the course he takes much longer, and I don't even try looking for him. (On principle I do not carry my mobile phone on morning walks, though the SRE has to carry his- he needs to be reachable at all times.) We decided to meet in the restaurant at a quarter past seven.
I walked as much as I could, and was in the restaurant a little before seven. Picked up a couple of newspapers and kept reading them, wishing that I had my own newspaper with its familiar crossword and a pencil. The man is usually later than plans to be, so I didn't really expect him before seven-thirty or so. But the clock kept ticking , and there was no sign of him. I was sitting at right angles to one of the restaurant's two entrances, and facing the other one.
By seven thirty I was feeling rather hungry and slightly irritated- if I'd walked on my usual route, near our house, I could have been comfortably snoozing again! Or reading. Or having a cup of tea. (Which i could have ordered for myself, but I am rather perverse). The rolling green of the course and the lovely old trees dotting the landscape made a beautiful picture. The overfed stray dogs, who seem to have a good thing going for them in the club's hallowed precincts, lazed luxuriantly on the tiled floor. They seemed to have breakfasted well.
The SRE appeared at a quarter to eight. Nothing unusual in that. I tried not to glare at him. He announced that he had come at seven twenty five and hadn't seen me, that he'd looked through both the entrances, and HE COULDN'T SEE ME. (He had pushed off to the loo after that, probably distraught because his better larger portion was missing.)
Spending twenty minutes in the club loo doesn't sound very sensible to me, but I had more important things to worry about. If you know me, you'll know that I could easily lose fifty pounds and not miss them at all. I don't think I'm easy to miss. Why couldn't he see me? Had I dematerialised? (That's something that I thought only happened to me in queues. The very instant I reach the head of the queue, I become invisible to the person just behind me.)
But I wasn't in a queue here, I was sitting at a table, reading a newspaper, all zillion kilos of me.
Why was I invisible to my husband of decades? Does he need glasses? He plays golf without any difficulty, and I'm certainly a lot more visible than a golf ball! ( His reading glasses are another story better not remembered here.) He said that my thoughts might have carried me far away, but I wasn't lost in thought at all!
(I know I was visible, but strangely so, for a while at least, while I was alone at the table.) A waiter came and put a cup and saucer and tea strainer and sugar sachets on my table. Then he brought a small pot of tea, at which juncture I told him that I hadn't ordered anything yet. Why did the waiter bring me tea that I hadn't ordered?
If the SRE didn't want to see me, he wouldn't have invited me in the first place. This seems to be one of life's strange mysteries, never to be solved. And never to be heard the last of, either.
My sympathies, Husband. Dear readers, any ideas?