I've mentioned before that there's a group of men who gather at our local shopping centre, outside Banjos, where they drink coffee and talk. I had thought they might be from the local Probus club but none of them were at the meeting last week. It's a mystery.
They were there again yesterday when Marilyn had to pick up a couple of things so she interrupted them. "Excuse me, gentlemen! My husband has noticed you sitting here and he wondered what sort of group you were. He thought you might be Probus or Rotary, or something like that."
"Oh, no," said a spokesman. "We're members of a fly-fishing club and we meet regularly to have a coffee and talk about fishing. Your husband would be welcome to join us."
Marilyn thanked them and made a quick retreat and, when she told me that they liked to talk about the fish they caught, and the ones that got away, I decided not to follow it up.
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