The Lonely Heart Attack Club: Wrinkly Olympics - Welcome to the Isle of Man's first dating club for the elderly. Sublimely funny!

by J C Williams

  “What do gay men do on a stag do?” shouted Jack.

  “How would I know?” shouted Emma from the kitchen. “Google it!”

  Jack was somewhat flustered. “Thanks, but I’ve done that. The results are not exactly what I thought they’d be, nor had a desire to see. If you ever use this computer, just remember this conversation and that I was using the computer for education purposes.”

  “How many does he want to go?” asked Emma, placing a cup of tea onto the table beside him.

  “He’s keeping it intimate. It’ll be just Pete and Kelvin, two of their closest friends, and me and you.”

  Emma nearly launched her tea over Horace. “What do you mean, me? I can’t go on a stag do!”

  “Well… you are!” said Jack. “And just remember, this could as easily be branded a hen do, in which case, you’d be organising this. Think of it as a sten do!”

  “Oh… a hag do!” shouted Emma enthusiastically. Whenever she cracked a joke of merit, she always followed up with a high-five. Jack didn’t like to encourage her, but the laughter lines on her face made him happy.

  “Anyway, I’m not thinking of anything excessive. I can’t imagine them lot fancy a week in Prague,” said Jack.

  “What about a nice log cabin somewhere?” suggested Emma.

  Jack thought for a moment. “You know, that’s not a bad idea, the last thing I want to do is get hammered for the weekend.”

  “If a few of Pete’s friends are coming, you might not get a choice!” laughed Emma, raising her hand for a high-five.

  Jack ignored the gesture and shuffled with unease. “I went to a place Up North when I was younger. It was in the middle of nowhere. What the hell was it called…? Kielder Water, that’s it. It’s a huge reservoir surrounded by forest. We can get a couple of log cabins. You know. The ones with hot tubs outside.”

  “Yes, that sounds good,” said Emma. “Plus, if it’s in the middle of nowhere, there will be no prying eyes to take pictures of the happy couple. You should suggest it to Pete.”

  Jack stretched his legs and admired the rolling Manx countryside in the distance. “I’ll miss this flat. I wouldn’t have said that a couple of years ago, but it’s nice with you in it.”

  “We’ll get the new house looking all warm and cosy,” said Emma. “We’ll get Horace a new bed so he feels welcome.”

  Jack picked up a photo frame and smiled. “That was a special day,” he said, showing it to Emma.

  “I know, look how happy Derek looks in that picture. Who’d have believed he’d be dead only a few hours later. I wish he’d known that we’d break the world record the following year.”

  “Yeah, until those pesky kids took it from us.”

  Emma cringed. “You sound like a really bad Scooby-Doo villain. Would you do it again?”

  “I’ve thought about it, but we only did it to bring attention to the club, and we did that. I’d do something, but not that. I’ll let them little bastards keep their record.”

  “Jack! It’s a good job you didn’t say it like that when you were getting interviewed on the BBC. So, what do you fancy doing, then?”

  “I don’t know. We’ve got a committee meeting tomorrow. I’ll throw it out there for ideas. It would be good to do something, especially on the back of the momentum from the BBC interview. I had three more calls yesterday, from coffee shops looking to do the same in the UK. I’d like to get to a hundred by the end of the year. So, we need about sixty more in the next eleven months. We can do that, can’t we, Horace!”

  “Order!” shouted Jack, but as usual he was completely ignored. It wasn’t that the audience was being rude; just the majority were all but deaf. Jack walked towards the counter and leaned over, rummaging in the recess where spare batteries, needle and thread, and a random plaster were located. Ah, he thought, as he grabbed a spare party popper — a reminder of an exceptionally noisy children’s party they’d hosted — and walked back towards the committee. He pulled the cord, which released a timid explosion. Apart from Emma and Hayley, the rest remained oblivious and continued their conversation. It was only when the errant strands of coloured paper from the party popper landed on them that the others looked and came to order.

  Jack and Emma were perfectly capable of running the club themselves, but they valued the additional input. After all, the reason they’d started it was to help the elderly — so it would make sense for them to be involved in the decision-making process. Aside from Jack and Emma, there were:

  Jack’s grandad, Geoffrey: Sporting this day an impressive gash on his face from his recent cycling exploits.

  Geoffrey’s ‘lady friend’ Stella: The elegant and good-looking-for-her-age grandmother of Hayley.

  Hayley: Florist and neighbour of the coffee shop. Once the love interest of Jack, until she confided in him that she was a lesbian who liked Emma. All a bit awkward but Emma and Jack became one, and all was forgiven.

  Ray: Recovering alcoholic and joined at the hip with Geoffrey. Previously a victim of a very expensive scam and now an advocate of educating the elderly.

  The bingo girls, Bella and Ella: Quite confusing when Stella was around the table, and they were all stone deaf. Bingo girls as they’d originally found their way into the club by mistake. They were looking for the bingo hall. They changed their hair colour often and looked alike. Jack was forever getting them mixed up but as they couldn’t hear, no offence was taken. They usually got his name wrong as well, so it was, in effect, a mutual misunderstanding.

  The empty seat: They always kept a spare seat in honour of their friend Derek.

  His coffee shop managers: Jack had embraced technology and purchased a round speakerphone so he could ‘dial in’ his three other managers without them needing to leave their premises. The speakerphone had an unusual influence on the hearing aids in the room, unusual in that it caused interference and produced an effect like that of a dog whistle quite noticeable to the hearing-aid wearers but inaudible to the rest of the room — there was no pain caused, but loads of fun to the fortunate observer.

  Jack ran through the usual agenda items and covered the outstanding minutes from the previous meeting. For one so utterly unorganised, it was impressive to see him in full flow.

  “We’re now on over forty full clubs across the country,” he announced proudly. “Each one of those clubs has a minimum of fifteen people attending, so by my calculation… that’s a lot of people we’re helping.”

  Whenever there was an announcement, there was always a delayed response as the news made its way slowly around the table. The last person to be relayed the message usually received a vague interpretation of the original.

  Jack continued, “I think it’s clear that we want to grow the numbers further—”

  “Bravo… Jason!” shouted one of the confused bingo girls, interrupting Jack in the process.

  Jack wondered who Jason was. “Sorry, Castletown branch… what was that?” There was no question, but the interference gave Jack great amusement.

  “Nothing from me?” was the confused response as several hearing aids were quickly adjusted.

  “Anyway, to swell the numbers further, we need to do something to get more attention.”

  The speakerphone burst back into life. “What about reclaiming the world record?”

  Jack was slightly more conciliatory in his reaction to losing the record this time. “I know, but do we not feel that we’ve done that? It might come across as sour grapes, that we’re just trying to take the limelight away from a load of little…. industrious schoolchildren.”

  There was a collective murmuring that was taken as agreement.

  “Grandad, why are you and Ray wearing vests?” Jack had tried to ignore it, but it was burning a hole in the back of his eyes.

  Geoffrey cleared his throat. “We’re going for a jog when we finish up.”

  They’d arrived before Jack, so their ensemble had gone unnoticed. “Are you wearing my Lycra shorts?”

  “I
am,” Geoffrey announced, standing up. “Very comfortable they are as well,” he said, with the once-proud bulge now virtually resting on the tabletop like a freshly-baked baguette.

  Stella threw a scowl towards the bingo girls, who were paying a little too much attention.

  “You’re not going out looking like that, Grandad!”

  He looked offended. “I bloody am!” he said defiantly. “Anyway, I won’t be alone.”

  Ray took the opportunity to stand and twirl in his new running shorts. They were equally as tight and revealing as Geoffrey’s, possibly a smidgen more.

  The choice of clothing made them look like divers who’d been in the water too long and started to wrinkle.

  “Fair enough,” said Jack. “To be honest, does it really matter what you look like as long as you’re getting exercise? Anyway, back to the agenda,” he said, rustling papers. “You can sit down now, guys! And for the love of God, please do!”

  Hayley raised her hand politely. She was lovely. Jack would never want to be with any other woman than Emma, but his heart still fluttered whenever Hayley spoke. He was all too aware of her sexual preferences, of course — very aware — and likely for that reason, Emma was a little more accommodating of his admiration.

  “Yes, Hayley?”

  “It’s great that the members are rising,” she said.

  Hopefully not Grandad and Ray’s, though! laughed Jack to himself.

  Hayley continued. “Why don’t we consider doing something with the other branches. Maybe a garden party or something?”

  Jack placed his hands on the table, leaning towards her. “That’s brilliant…”

  He said nothing further and Hayley was unclear why, presently, he was staring vacantly.

  Jack glanced at Ray and Grandad and smiled — taking inspiration from their questionable running attire. “I’ve got it!” he said. “We need to bring all the branches together for an Olympics!”

  The response was underwhelming.

  “What did Jason say?” asked one bingo girl to the other.

  “He said that we’re going to bring a circus over!” replied the other bingo girl to the first.

  “Think about it,” asked Jack, politely choosing to ignore the girls. “We’ve got hundreds of people that have joined a club to meet other people. Every branch of the club has a section for the Silver Sprinters, as do we. They all want to get fit and healthy. There are two of the finest specimens, sat over there,” he said, pointing to Grandad and Ray. “We could have the Isle of Man’s first Olympic Games for the elderly!”

  “The Wrinkly Olympics!” shouted Emma, raising a virtual high five towards Jack.

  “Yes, I love it!” said Jack enthusiastically. “All those in favour?”

  “Will we have lions?” asked one of the bingo girls. “Ooh, yes, and a glorious tent,” said the other. “I loved the circus when I was a girl,” she continued, muttering to herself.

  If they were happy, Jack was happy, so he smiled. “I can’t promise anything, but we’ll see what we can do!” he said.

  “So, aside from shooting midgets out of a cannon, it looks like the Lonely Heart Attack Club is branching out. Here’s to the Wrinkly Olympics!” he said, raising his cup of coffee.

  .

  Chapter Four

  J ack loved Friday. Well, in fact, now his personal and business life was in positive territory, he enjoyed most days, though Friday was the day he drove to each of their shops. He didn’t do it to check up on his managers; they were all passionate and shared the vision that they shouldn’t just be a coffee shop but a part of the community in which they thrived. The only way to stave off the major corporate brands was to offer something that most of them didn’t — to be embedded in, and a part of, the community.

  To be fair, there were some corporates who were very much a part of the community, and a number of them had helped Jack and Emma. There were some who’d contributed with fundraising and professional assistance, and in some cases — such as Barclays — going as far as to provide ‘digital eagles’ who provided practical and technical assistance to staying safe online and avoid being scammed. As a result, there were now elderly people across the Island who wouldn’t have been able to turn a computer on a few weeks before, who were now able to surf the web, make contact with family and long-lost friends, and spread the word among their peers. The police had been involved from day one and, because of everyone’s efforts, the number of reported scams on the Island had fallen significantly.

  The key thing was that people were talking about their personal experiences. Previously, the vulnerable that’d fallen victim were too embarrassed to report it to the police, or, those who did would ask that their details not be passed on. Now that people understood how sophisticated the scammers could be, they were eager and willing to share their stories in the hope that it would protect others.

  The other shops were in Ramsey, in the North of the Island, Peel, in the West, and Castletown in the South. Similar to the growth their Douglas shop had enjoyed, all the others were expanding at a similar rate as well. Jack was eager to see the Lonely Heart Attack Club be at the heart of the business, with the coffee shop built on its foundation. Fortunately, they’d found three managers who not only had business acumen but also shared their desire to develop the community element. Having several people striving for the same outcome meant that there was a great pool of innovation. Tommy, in the Castletown shop, for instance, had invited the mobile library to come into the shop on Tuesday mornings. The shop, which would usually be quiet on Tuesday morning, was now heaving. More importantly, people were making an effort to come along and the library became almost secondary to the social interaction that was on offer.

  With everyone’s hard work, they were creating communities within communities — almost a throwback to a bygone era, where the high street would be an experience, shopping would be the output, but meeting friends and neighbours would be the highlight. Each shop also had a branch of the Silver Sprinters and Jack was motivated to hear stories of people — who hadn’t been out of their house for weeks — that were now involved in walking parties, gentle jogs, or, as in the case of the Peel team, a sandcastle-building competition.

  Most of the work they did involved the elderly and vulnerable in the community, but of course most of these folks had sons, daughters, and grandkids, so, by default, the younger in the community were also getting involved. And so the unintended — but beneficial — consequence of creating a community for the elderly was that this community, as a consequence, naturally led to the inclusion of family as well. The isolated began to feel included and the vulnerable began to feel confident. Jack had seen first-hand how debilitating loneliness could be, and seeing the impact their actions were having inspired him.

  “Morning, Tommy!” said Jack.

  “Hey, Jack, how’s your grandad?”

  Jack was slightly taken aback. “Fine,” he said cautiously, and then, after a pause, “But when people usually ask me that, there is a reason he perhaps shouldn’t be. Have you received any complaints? Some shitbag stole his bike last week.”

  “No complaints, lately,” he said, much to Jack’s relief. “Him and his lady-friend were in here last week. They’d cycled down!”

  Jack was surprised; it was at least ten miles. “Impressive,” he said.

  “Not really, they’d put their bikes on the train and cycled from the station to the nearest pub — about fifteen feet away. By the time they’d called in here, the pair of them were steaming more than the train. Anyway, they were too pissed to cycle, so I dropped them back to the station later on. You can tell Interpol to stand down — their bikes are out the back. They must have been so well oiled that they’d forgotten where they left them.”

  “Bloody Grandad! I could swing for him.”

  “It’s not that bad? At least they haven’t been stolen.”

  “Not that bad? He’s been on the radio twice to talk about the scourge on society that stole his bike. Oh
, shit,” said Jack, collapsing into a chair near the window. “Some kind soul has set up a crowd-funding website to raise money for a new bike for him. I’m half expecting Bob Geldof to arrange a benefit gig. I’ll take them with me — I’ve got the work van and I can throw them in the back. He’s got the local paper coming around later, as well. You know, one of those sob stories where he’ll be looking forlorn with his pockets turned inside out like they’ve just stolen his pension.”

  Tommy laughed. “Are you going to tell him?”

  Jack rubbed his chin like a budget Bond villain. “I’m unsure. I might let him get halfway through his interview and appear with them. I’ll decide on the way back. Are you sure they’re the right bikes?”

  “Very!” said Tommy. “One of them is bright pink with a basket on the front and the other is Stella’s!”

  He wheeled them out and there was no mistaking it. One was nondescript, but the other was a traditional ladies bike, vibrant pink with a wicker basket sat proudly on the front.

  “Anyway, how’s Castletown?” asked Jack.

  “It’s been a great week, apart from harbouring stolen contraband! Takings are up and we’ve signed up seven new members.”

  “In a week? That’s amazing!”

  “I know, it’s great and we’re getting enquiries every day. I think your BBC interview must have helped.”

  “Nonsense,” said Jack. “That’s down to your hard work. What do you think about the ‘Wrinkly Olympics’ idea?”

  “All the guys think it’s a brilliant idea, we can’t wait. We’ve got some hidden talent in our club also. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

  “I’ll be on to you if you dye your hair grey and pull your trousers up to your nipples and suddenly enter the hundred-metres! Kelvin Reed has put me in touch with someone at BBC Sport — hopefully they may give it some airtime, or at least some local coverage to spread the word. Anyway, I better get these bikes back before Grandad makes even more of a tit out of himself. Good work, Tommy, I’ll speak to you soon.”