Dinner with the Nige

Dave and I had dinner tonight with Nigel Bryant, native of Beaulieau (pronounced Be-oo-ly), England. The Nige works for CTS-UK so we get to see him from time to time while we are in San Diego; he comes over for corporate meetings. Nigel is married and has two kids, all of whom I met when I traveled to England with Dave in 2001 (?) Jackie, Rachel and Hannah are lovely people, and I had the pleasure of dinner in their home and a tour of the New Forest area around Beaulieu which is delightful. It was my only visit to the Bryant household, but Dave has been many times. Dave used to make several prolonged visits to England every year and has come to love England as a second home. Whenever he is there, Nigel invites him to dinner, and whenever Nigel is here, vice versa.

Usually, I cook for Nigel, and spoil him with an elaborate dessert. I love having him sit at my table, and listening to him and Dave discuss business, books, family, and history. They discuss cricket, soccer and wine, too, but those topics don’t interest me much. Nigel is always good company, though he sometimes turns his sharp wit on people we all know, and says the most outrageous things. He makes me laugh. Tonight, we took him out to dinner to a restaurant called The Butcher Shop. Sounds yummy, doesn’t it? Not quite as bad a name for a restaurant as the Camel’s Breath Inn but still unfortunate. As it turns out, it is a very good restaurant, very good ambience, food, and service, and, happily for Nigel, a decent wine cellar. They make a hell of a dessert there as well. I can recommend it highly, but make reservations before you go or the wait will be wearing.

We had a lovely meal and a lovely time, marred only somewhat by talk of retirement plans. It’s not that I don’t want these men to retire; they have both worked hard and long and deserve comfortable retirements; it’s just that whenever retirement does come, our dinners together will become a thing of the past. People always say they are going to keep in touch and get together from time to time, but it doesn’t often happen that way. When our friend Bill Hooper retired, he moved to Florida and disappeared from our lives forever; no attempts at contact by us have been reciprocated by him. Nigel will be retiring to England, which is considerably further away than Florida. He won’t be retiring soon, but it is on the horizon, and it makes me sad. I’ve grown very fond of Nigel.

It’s hard to fathom that we have come to that time of life when we are planning to retire. I say “we” because I have a mouse in my pocket; I am already sans employment if not retired, having resigned my associate professorship in April to become a gypsy. But, as Dave said to our son about two weeks ago, in four years we will be 60. That doesn’t seem possible. Dave’s been working for Cubic for 25 years, and that doesn’t seem possible either. I know we are older. I can see it looking at us. And I know we are slowing down, losing strength, beginning to creak and ache but our SPIRITS don’t seem any older. We both still have the same joie de vie that we have always had; we still have enthusiasms and hobbies, skills and pastimes; we still dance to rock ‘n roll, look forward to movies, eat popsicles after dinner until the box is empty and rub each other’s feet. We are youngsters trapped in fading bodies. And we are still in love. I think we are too young to retire. Maybe we should start our own business. Maybe a restaurant? I'm sure we could think of a really horrible name for one.

Happy birthday to my baby sister Susan, born on this day in 1950. You do the math. Love you, Sis.