My name is Jenny Harris. One day a couple of years ago I sat drinking a cup of poisonous university cafeteria tea and mulling over the lecture on Rousseau's "Social Contract," I had just attended. I decided it had been a good lecture because I now had some idea of what the old Gaul had been going on about.
I was fifty-nine years of age at the time, and two years ago my beloved Alf had died. I grieved for my loss, especially my bed time loss, because Alf and I had been lovers almost from the time we first met when I was eighteen and he twenty. We stayed lovers until the time of his last illness. "We might not have been as hot as when we first started," I thought, "but we certainly kept each other entertained."
Of all my anatomy, Alf had celebrated in my breasts. When they first developed in puberty, I had hated them. I thought them large and ugly, but Alf taught me otherwise. They are still large, and having had no children, they have retained a good deal of their firmness. I often see men, even young ones, eyeing these mammary glands of mine with lascivious eyes – if only one of them would handle them again as Alf used to…
Alf and I had wanted children, but try as we might, they never happened. "Mind you," Alf would say, "We have a lot of fun trying."
Once starting to recover from my grief over Alf's death, I remembered something I had heard about university lectures. For a small fee, people were allowed to sit in on the lectures. They were not allowed to participate in the tutorials and there were no exams or essays, but the lectures were open to them.
I lived within walking distance of the university and often in the past, as I walked by its buildings, I would say to myself, "One day you'll be there." So, when the opportunity came, I decided I didn't want the full course, but would enjoy participating in the lectures, so I selected Political Philosophy and paid my fee.
Now, as I sat in the cafeteria there were groups of young people who had been at the lecture sitting all around the place, chattering about what they had heard. I caught odd snatches of the conversations and felt a little envious. I wished I could join them, but didn't feel I could just butt in. I began to regret the tutorials I was not permitted to attend. "Be great to talk things out," I thought.
We were about halfway through the first term and I had a sort of nodding acquaintance with a few of the students. There was one especially who always sat next to me, and with whom I exchanged brief greetings. I had heard the other students call him "Garron," and now Garron came over and seated himself at my table.
"You always sit on your own," he said. "Why not join some of the others?"
"I don't think they'd want an old woman pushing in," I said.
"They might think it interesting to have an older person's point of view," Garron replied. "And you don't look all that old. I haven't seen you at any of the tutorials, either."
"I can't go to the tutorials, I only pay for the lectures."
"Ah, your one of the people who just sit in the lectures? Pity because the tutorial are really quite interesting."
"I thought they might be, but there you are…"
We spoke for a while longer then Garron had to be off to another lecture. "See you again, he said cheerfully," and departed.
"Nice young chap," I thought. I had been especially flattered by the comment; "You don't look all that old." "Young liar," I said to myself, but hoped he wasn't.
In the following couple of weeks, Garron made a point leaving the lectures with me and we went together to the cafeteria for our cup of poison. One morning Garron said, "I've had an idea. You are not allowed to attend the official tutorials, so why don't we have an unofficial tutorial just for you."
"How do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, I could talk to a few of the students – the one's who are keen on the subject, and we could meet and talk over various points. What do you say?"
"It's a lovely thought," I said, "but I don't think you'll get many takers."
"Well let's find out, shall we?" Garron said. "How many people do you think? And where and when?"
Starting to be influenced by Garron's enthusiasm for the idea, I said, "Oh, no more than eight, and what about my place? I only live ten minutes walk from the university. And how about a Friday night?"
"Leave it to me," said the cheerful Garron."
I loved the idea, but held out little hope for its success. However, the following week Garron came bouncing into the lecture room wreathed in smiles.
"Done it," he crowed. "Got eight. Six guys, two girls and me. What time on Friday?
We settled for seven thirty, and I gave him my address.
I had been lonely since Alf's death and was excited at the thought of company, and young company too. I went to considerable lengths in preparing for the evening, including some maintenance work on myself, and plenty of eatables.
My guests (if that is the right word) arrived more or less on time and Garron made the introductions. The first step was to plan what we would study and prepare for future "Jenny tutorials" as they came to be called.
I now had to prepare short papers along with the other participants, and ended up paying particular attention to, of all people, Locke and Karl Marx.
I found these gatherings very exhilarating and Friday night became the high point of my week.
I had expected that after a few sessions, some of them would lose interest, but they seemed to enjoy it as much as I did and I began to feel that I had gained some close friends.
Weeks passed and my sixtieth birthday approached and as it happened it was on a Friday. The Friday prior to my birthday I announced that there would be a "little bit of a party for my birthday next Friday, and anyone who would like to stay after the tutorial would be very welcome."
During the week, I bought some celebratory type food, including four bottles of wine.
