Arriving in Halifax, Nova Scotia the other night to join a cruise ship for after-dinner talks, I found I was sharing my hotel with 250 women, every one of them clad in eye-jarring combinations of red and purple. It was the annual ‘Hoot’ of the Red Hat Society, an association of ladies of 50-plus devoted, several of them could not wait to tell me, to having a good time. Somewhat alarmed by the bedroom-door adornments (the one opposite mine was decorated with hearts and red chilli peppers), I chose discretion. I headed for a clam chowder at a harbourside restaurant and stayed out late.
It was probably the right choice. At the previous Hoot, one redoubtable matron related over the next breakfast table to mine, her friend had complained of a man in the next room who had snored so loudly that he could have sucked the wallpaper off the walls.
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