Pav’s Patch; Will this lonely heart beat again?

WITH 18 months gone since Mrs P gave me my cards and decided that life on her own was preferable to life with me, I have started to wonder whether the time has come to emerge from isolation.

Let’s face it, finding another woman should be no problem for a hunk like me: tall, dark-haired and with virtually all my own teeth at the age of 51 and a bit. I’m sure I could rediscover the old charm even after so many years.

If only it were so simple. Lots of people have friends, but are they the sort of friends you would want to be seen out with?

I married fairly late in life — so late that there were times when my mam asked me if there was anything I needed to tell her — and I still shudder at some of the women people tried to set me up with.

They were invariably less than desirable, and for all manner of reasons.

I remember attending a wedding once and the groom’s aunty asked me where my girl friend was. “Don’t have one,” I replied, to which aunty said: “Well, Ena’s available.”

Trouble was, Ena looked like a man. She was covered with little marks from where she had been pushed away with bargepoles. It really was no surprise she was available.

At the moment, a woman I know keeps telling me about her gorgeous friend . . . who likes bingo and karaoke. Yes, she’s so gorgeous she’s on her own.

A colleague at the Chronicle has suggested popping round to my flat for tea and a custard cream, but she’s a maneater and, well, so far over the hill she’s disappeared into the sunset.

There was also a friend who offered to set me up with a barrister no less — in my impecunious state. I shudder to think what somebody from Prestbury would have made of my beat-up Rover 25, or the happy-hour menu at Pizza Hut.

Only once was I happy with a blind date. I was set up with a pretty air hostess. Trouble is, we encountered some Hyde Cricket Club players.

I think it all went wrong when Dave Butterworth said: “So will yer be makin’ t’butties for us next season.”

I tried to be optimistic but I got a clue things might not have gone too well when I dropped her off and she thanked me for a quite pleasant time.

Possibly I could try speed-dating, where you all whizz round spending five minutes with each other.

Perhaps not. On reflection I’m better off watching “Transformers” with my son.