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Refugees!
She has the sort of face that would make her ideal as a radio presenter. Around forty but could easily fool you she was fifteen years or more older. Intelligent, friendly and funny. At least her cat is. What she doesn’t know about the people around her she will tell you anyway.
Why are so many ex-pats that live here like this?
Every so often she makes the trip back to her ‘old country’ to call upon and stay with old friends and relatives. The trip always takes her longer than planned as many of them move house following her last visit but manage to avoid informing her where to.
I was first introduced to her at a social gathering a couple of years back and she seemed pleasant enough at first. She asked me what I did for a living but before I got halfway through the first three or four words of my response she announced loudly enough for everyone else in the room to hear “Your ideas will never succeed. You will fail!”
Somewhat astonished I replied “That will come as a bit of a disappointment to my fifteen thousand or so customers. They are located in over a hundred countries world-wide and I’ve been supplying almost every one them regularly now for the past quarter of a century!”
She isn’t unique by a long shot. It’s 'ex-pat disease' I think. Unsuccessful in the country of their birth these ‘refugees’ manage to pack all the reasons for their failure along with the rest of their belongings into two equally well balanced bags. One chip for each shoulder.
Memsahib and I have managed to fall foul of almost every other ex-pat in our community. For reasons we can never fathom. Fortunately that isn’t too many though. Hardly any disappointment either as we are generally with other friends at least twice and often three times or more every week. Either invited by or reciprocating the gesture to any one of eighty or more native local friends we have made (and kept!) since moving here over a decade ago
This week-end will be similar to the last and to the one before that. Never boring though and always good fun. Entertained by some of the kindest, most generous and cultured people on this planet. Is it any wonder my ex-pat contemporaries neither get on with them nor ever seem to be asked back a second time!?
I’ve finished being a whinging Pom now.
For the day anyway.
