The Meeting

Having conducted a small yet thorough survey I have reached the conclusion that silver-haired women who wear red coats are particularly kind, tolerant, understanding, in fact downright nice.

Yesterday I set out to meet our very own Benita Kape, in London for a few days, and that is when I gained the incontrovertible proof.  We had agreed on the phone that we would meet at the Tate Gallery and that I would recognise her by the colour of her hair and coat.  I would carry a bright yellow book.  

Once arrived I positioned myself by the revolving door at the entrance, peering at each new arrival.  I adopted a cheery, welcoming smile and tried to look like I was casually holding the book.  At first I let the red-coated women pass me by, thinking that had they been Benita they would surely have approached me. 

Gradually both my smile and the book began to slip down and doubts slip in to my mind.  Was I at the right entrance?  We had agreed on lunch, was Benita perhaps already seated at one of the four eating places?  For the next 2 hours I flitted between both entrances and both information desks.  I peered at all silver-haired lunch-takers and the coats draped over their chairs.  Ignoring the delights for sale I scoured the shops.  Sparing the meagrest of glances for the dreamy wonders of Turner I sped through his gallery.

In each of these places I accosted women of said description.  I began to wonder how red is red, how silver is silver.  Should I approach colours veering towards purple, orange or pink? and the hair, could pewter grey be described as silver? or white?  That was when I made my discovery - that red-coated, silver-haired women are to be cultivated.  Without exception they apologised for not being Benita, they made me smile, with their ease of manner they eased my disappointment.

When I finally decided to go home a thought crossed my mind, was I at the right Tate? 

Much later, in the late afternoon and in the pouring rain, just outside the Houses of Parliament I espied a cherry red coat in front of me.  The hair was dark with rain but I thought I'd take a chance.  "Benita" I called.

Reader, we met and guess what?  She fits the pattern, kind, tolerant, understanding and downright nice.