When I asked Peter if he'd be interested in joining me, he said definitely not as he's not that keen on card games and thought it would be full of elderly people (he's 77 himself, though he doesn't look it). I rang first to make sure it wouldn't cause any problems if I came along and was reassured when the person I spoke to sounded cheerful, friendly and youngish. He then explained that he'd introduce me to his grandfather Reg, who'd be running it. No problem, I decided - it's attitude not age that matters.
Getting there should have been a doddle as it's two simple bus journeys from adjacent stops and then a half mile walk. I could have driven, but I was in Kingston anyway so it was simpler to go by bus. Given my abysmal sense of direction, I took the precaution of printing off a Google map with directions and set off in plenty of time. That was just as well, as I got thoroughly lost and ended up in an estate agent's to ask the way. In my defence I'd point out that the directions were thoroughly misleading, as they said "continue along the Kingston Road and after 65 metres turn right". I was surprised there was no right turning in sight for at least 250 metres, but carried on towards the major road junction in the distance. What I hadn't realised was that they should have said "turn back along the Kingston Road". Clearly I need to get on with Task 13, mastering the Google map app.
Anyway I arrived with 15 minutes to spare and met Reg and his wife Ines. They were very welcoming and stressed that no-one took the game seriously, they were just there to enjoy themselves. If anyone started commenting on the way I was playing, I should simply ignore them. This sounded promising. Also my eye was caught by some plates of jam tarts, so this was beginning to look like my kind of place.
As everyone turned up, I realised that Peter was right about the age profile. He would have been regarded as a bit of a lad. After all the introductions and the latest news on everyone's health, we moved over to the card tables and began the first game. Reg had thoughtfully placed me with him, which was especially kind as I hadn't realised we would be playing in mixed pairs, four people per table. I had visions of upsetting a whole succession of partners, as it was clear that everyone else was a regular (they typically have up to 20 players at a time).
Apart from briefly forgetting what was trumps and not having a clue whose turn it was to start, the first game went quite well and I began to relax. Then Reg rang a large bell and people started moving around, but I couldn't see a pattern behind it and no-one seemed to expect me to move, so I stayed put. The same thing happened for the next few games until my luck broke. Faced with a choice between playing the ace or the king of diamonds, I decided to play the king, figuring that that would sow some doubt as to whether or not I had the ace - forgetting that the uncertainty would include my partner. He explained to me afterwards that I should have played the ace, as otherwise if he had had a void in a suit, he might have trumped me. It took me several hours to work out why he might have trumped such a high card of mine, but eventually the penny dropped.
I sat there pondering this until I noticed that I seemed to be expected to move. Had my partner indicated he'd had enough? It was explained that we were playing progressive whist, which meant that at the end of every game, the losing woman would move clockwise to the next table, while the losing man would move anticlockwise to his next table. The winning man would partner the losing woman, which means everyone plays with different people. I found that confusing and simply ambled along until I found a seat where someone seemed to be expecting me.
It didn't help that every now and then, someone would say to a woman "Are you a man or a woman?" and depending on the answer, hand them a pack of cards. After a while I realised that a few women were playing as men, to even up the numbers, and only men (and women posing as men) were allowed to deal and to pick up the tricks made by their pair.
Throughout the afternoon there was background music which reminded me very much of the tapes I'd put together during my university years. At one point it got stuck, but only those wearing their hearing aids (and me) spotted this, so it was some time before it got jogged along. Apparently this happens every week, at exactly the same point ("You Can't Hurry Love"), to a muted chorus of "here we go again" and "I don't know why we have to have music". I didn't really see why they were bothered either way, since most of them were chatting while they were playing. I assumed that meant they weren't watching the cards, so I heaved a sigh of relief and stopped trying, humming happily along to the tunes instead. Wrong.
As someone was telling me about a centre in North Cheam where you can apparently learn how to play whist properly - the second person to mention this - I noticed that everyone else had disappeared. Tea break! Ines and Reg generously provide tea and cakes every week, including yummy chocolate and coconut macaroons. After that there were only two more games to complete the set of 12, and then came the grand reckoning of the score cards. Astonishingly I had come second, so just missed out on a prize (one each for the highest and lowest scoring man and woman):
If you want a sociable afternoon and aren't up to playing bridge, a whist drive is fun - and you will feel extremely young!
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