Childless and the wrong age
We’ve just had a terrifying experience by the pool. Not some rogue shark attack or the sight of a central European in inappropriate swim-wear. The terror of which I speak is forced socialising.
We attended the Malay/Indian buffet (the curried fish a particular favourite) after hiding round the corner debating whether to put ourselves into the firing line of being talked at by someone dull for hours.
We need not have pretended to look at the fish for so long. Seems we’re the wrong demographic. The attendees to the party were middle-aged men with large corporate guts and their wives and hyper offspring (there must have been something in the lime cordial).
The wives are a peculiar breed, when you see them at breakfast there is an air of desperation. Their sad eyes seem to well with tears as if to say, “I’ve fed the little bastards what do I do for the next eight hours?” Thankfully as a trailing spouse (thanks to Expat Magazine for the definition) without any offspring of my own I can just enjoy the days trouble-free.
There was some mixing amongst the family units, but without children of our own we avoided any talk of the best nurseries in the area and family days out. A few middle-aged men apparently free of the shackles of a trailing family appeared to be warming up for a insalubrious night on Singapore’s extremely clean and well kept tiles.
All the time an Indian family sat in scrum formation looking as though they’d rather have their eye’s poked out than mix with anyone so I guess we weren’t the only ones.
I’ll have to hope that the gaelic footballers who I went training with on Tuesday (before near collapsing and crying off through dehyration) will provide a more demographically-aligned group with which to hang out.
Andy 26 January 2007
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