HEARTBEAT:When it comes to the survival of the fittest, they're mostly female
A RECENT dinner for medical graduates of our year excavated further memories of less complicated times. For this reunion, we did not seek to assemble classmates from the ends of the earth, but rather concentrated on those resident in these islands. As usual at such gatherings, everybody seemed to look just the same.
There were some superficial differences, of course, due to increased girth or conspicuous hair loss. Such changes only applied to the men; the ladies were as beautiful as ever. The Highest Authority suggested that I write that little bit and I am grateful to her for reminding me.
When those assembled did a virtual headcount of those absent, the ladies were seen to have another advantage. Not alone were their looks, intelligence and personalities better preserved but proportionately there were more of them alive.
The fish so far removed from our class barrel by the Great Fisherman were exclusively male. I have a theory about this; women's health my ass, it's time to wake up guys before you become extinct.
However, the sadder reflections and recollections did not last long. We were there to remember comradeship and happy times when we had but little and faced uncertainty in the big world outside.
We had each other and it was good to see that our shared experiences had not been forgotten as became obvious as the evening progressed.
It was recalled how a classmate in our earlier student years, and in her total naivety, brought a selection of her fellow students to her sister's 21st party. Dr Johnson wrote that "wine makes a man better pleased with himself. I do not say it makes him more pleasing to others."
He got that right. The contingent that showed up after closing time full of Guinness did not impress the parents or the hapless birthday girl. The trouble, when I chose to remember it, started with the Paul Jones.
Does anybody out there remember the Paul Jones? I tried this on the Lesser Authorities and on their brothers but they looked at me blankly as if the early idiocies of their parents were of little interest to them.
For the uninitiated, it was a dance, supposedly to promote the party spirit and ensure mixing of the guests. There was an outer circle of men and an inner circle of ladies and they revolved around one another in opposite directions.
The basic idea was that when the music stopped you danced with the person facing you. Apart from the odd "life and soul of the party" individual, most of us just shuffled around wishing themselves elsewhere yet covertly eyeing the other circle. In both circles there were those who didn't much care about the stopping place and there were those who cared mightily. It was not unknown to be shunted violently to the side by a neighbour who fancied the girl stopping opposite you.
It was also not unheard of for either ring to accelerate to remove themselves from the vicinity of a perceived "short straw" in the other circle.
Worst of all and nigh unforgivable was for the dissatisfied to simply up anchor and flee for the safety of the bathrooms. On that particular evening, a combination of alcohol, a possibly moving floor and the blinding beauty of those opposite, led to a large number of the "doctors of the future" winding up on the floor to their own great amusement. It was not shared.
You know there are times when apologies simply don't work, particularly when tendered by the inebriated; it's also true that some memories can make you wince at 50 years remove. "The next dance will be a ladies' choice."
That was another beauty; I gather it is also now extinct. It was remembered differently by the sexes. The men recalled it as "run for your lives" time. As for the ladies, 99.99 per cent would have died before they asked a man to dance. They wouldn't rush forward on February 29th either. Funny thing though, the floor was always crowded, but not with . any of the girls we knew.
We did of course talk of other things and even about our professional lives. Memories of other times when the connotation of "getting trolleyed" meant something other than a dismal wait in the A&E departments of today were more suitable for our conviviality on the evening.
Maurice Neligan is a cardiac surgeon.
