Spindle's boyfriend is at her house again. Spindle, our octogenarian and emaciated neighbour - hence the nickname - has been with the new chap a few months now. Rumour has it that she is something of a black widow, wooing elderly men to marry her, presumably with the intention of outliving them. Having seen the new chap a couple of times now he looks decrepit - 'knackered' as Sharon puts it.
The overnight stays are a more recent development and conjure some disturbing images. The sight of her in shorts is unsettling enough; but the thought of her shagging the life out of him to speed his demise is too much to bear. It's simply wrong!
To make matters worse, it has not gone unnoticed that when chap stays over she puts her outside light on; it might not be red but one has the feeling that it serves the same function in letting the hamlet know what's going on.
As yet we've been spared the sounds of them banging; but it's bloody quiet here and with calm and balmy summer nights due that dubious pleasure may yet arrive.