had enjoyed herself on a foggy night in the back of a London Taxi etc., etc. Our ears were constantly flapping that we never ever concentrated enough to learn and our lesson would dissolve into drinks and laughter.
Gilly’s classic story however was the time when she and her previous husband had arrived hot and sweaty in the mid-morning heat after a long journey, at the Galle Face Hotel. They sat under the fans to cool off in the big open verandah to have a refreshing drink . Whitby said after he finished his beer that he was going up to the room to bathe and cool down, but she said that she needed another Gin and Tonic before coming up. She arrived about twenty minutes later to the huge room that they had chosen over looking the sea, with the pounding surf breaking below the windows. He was standing naked in front of the blowing net curtains, his legs apart cooling himself in the gentle sea breeze. She crept in quietly unnoticed, shoved her hand between his legs and grabbed his ‘family jewels’ and said: “Dingle-dangle-dingle”. The man turned round, it was not her husband; she had gone into the wrong room!
Finally we gave up trying to learn Bridge until 30 years later we had proper boring lessons in England, and not nearly half as interesting!
