Charles, a close friend of mine now for over thirty years, visited me last week. Charlie and I met during our time in the army and, understandably, we’ve formed quite a good friendship. Still, I don’t see him as much as I’d like to – he lives in Somerset now with his wife, Susan – so I was pleasantly surprised when my wife told me that he’d called during supper to arrange a visit.
It was the first time that I’d welcomed Charles into my home, so naturally, I gave him the full tour of our modest cottage. Of course, I saved up the inspection of my blackjack trophies and certificates until the end of the inspection.
Charles didn’t seem surprised by my bursting cabinet. Indeed, during leave we often hit the local casinos by our barracks. I’ve been sworn to secrecy about many of our adventures – lest our wives think less of us – but suffice it to say, we both got quite proficient at it.
After Charles had left, it got me thinking about our times together and how much fun we had as young men. Still, I can help but wince at the amount of money we must have lost at the tables. We were naive players. Often standing when we should have hit. Often hitting when we should have stood.
It just goes to show that, like wine, you get better at blackjack with age. I can only imagine at how many trophies I will win when I am 90!
