“Humorous moxie.”


download (2)

Our eldest son Geoferry organized and paid for a private dining room in the exclusive up scale restaurant “Alain Ducasse,” inside the Dorchester hotel in downtown London to celebrate our wedding anniversary.

Initially, I was against the event believing Geoffery should save his money, as I would be content with dinner at home with our Geoffery and ten or so family members hoping everyone would leave by eight-o’clock pm.

My protest fell on deaf ears when Elana insisted we allow Geoffery to organize the event to show his love for us. I remember thinking to myself, If only we had another child, to debate this issue, I would have had my way.

Our evening began at 5:30 pm with lovely edible appetizers and mixed drinks. We sat for dinner at 6:00 pm with a savory main course of honey garlic baked pheasant breast, wonderfully decorated and garnished displayed along side strips of grilled asparagus drizzled with truffle butter and steamed curried rice pilaf.

Although the serving portions were sparse to fill my stomach, the wine and cocktails were strong enough for two people, and the dessert was served as a piece of art and way too sweet.

After wonderfully inspiring speeches from Geoffery my brother, a sister, and brother-in-law and our long time neighbor Gilford. I grew impatient, with such praise and all I could think of was walking-off the calories from the desert.

By 8:00 pm, the evening slowly ended with kisses, hugs, and hands shake’s when Elana wanted photos of my tailored suit, the anniversary gift she presented to me earlier in the day.
Eventually, I was able to drag Elana out of the private dining room for an evening walk to Hyde Park to see my favorite statue.

It was an unusually warm summer evening when we arrived to stand before the Achilles Statue. Feeling the remnants of the alcohol I passionately kissed my love surrounded by onlookers who smiled and several people applauded. Our presence still has that affect on people.

The poses of the Borghese Gladiator shows the Greek mythological hero as a muscular, young man, raising his shield with his left hand and his short sword in his right, with his armour resting against his right leg and his cloak, draped over his left shoulder. I love the statue immensely, and I’ve always thought of my self as the protector of my Elana and Geoffery.

We walked to a nearby bench where we kissed, hugged and cuddled for a moment before being disturbed by a young hooligan yelling profanity to some people a distance away. When he interrupted our peaceful interlude, I gave him a hard and intense look.

The young ruffian felt my stern evil eyes, when he yelled, “what’s it to Ya, ya old bugger.”

In the stoic presence of the Achilles Statue, Elana gripped my hands knowing I would not allow his comment to go without a response. I briefly thought of not responding when my adrenalin and moxie began erupting within me.

As I rose to stand, my 6’7″ height, towering above the young rascal, I addressed him as “sir,” to show my sign of respect. My gritty and gravely baritone voice bellowed aloud telling him. My name is George Larkins retired commander of Her Majesties Navel Service Marines Commandos.

My name is George Larkins retired commander of Her Majesties Navel Service Marines Commandos. I ask that you calm your voice as you have broken a most solemn moment of silence for my wife and me. I pointed towards the Achilles Statue, telling him to show respect for all of the men who died on the battle field during the great war by my hands.

There was no response from the young man who sheepishly walked and then ran away.

I turned towards my lovely Elana, who was now standing beside me. We shared a smiled and kissed, waved to the Achilles statue and walked back to the hotel feeling quite powerfully happy celebrating our 57-years of marriage.


WordPress daily word prompt


Thank you so much for your comment. :-)

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: