The Plan was…

…to go and play a few games of pool with the kid and his buddy.

Since I’ve been cooped up in the house forever, thought that it might be a good idea to just go out and do something communal.

Apparently, if you’re older than 10, you’re not allowed to go out at night. Especially not on a weekend night. Because weekends belong to rugrats.

They swarm. Like locusts. Covering every available surface, plastering their drunk bodies over every chair, little girls hanging across their boyfriends, giggling – irritating.

So, either you suck it up and enter jovially into the fray, and tell yourself that it keeps you young to mingle with the under 10 crowd, or you go home.

Either you swallow your irritation and stand in line with the hope that you might eventually get to play a few games, or you go home.

Under no circumstances are you able to voice your irritation with them – you’re just an old fogie, and should go home.

You can’t shove the little dears out the way, or kick their legs from under them, or spill your drink on them – royal game and all that.

Since kids these days don’t need to be disciplined – they’re perfect. It’s their right to go out and be young.

And so it is.

You are only young once. Only for a while in your life can you enjoy endless hours of drinking and fornicating.

And old fogies have no place in that particular rite of passage.

Which is my point exactly. I have absolutely no wish to spend any evening with other people’s drunken, misbehaving kids. I can only do my own kids for a limited time, so I can’t see myself mingling with other people’s kids.

Alas. Just because I have grey hair does not mean that I only want to go to the theatre or a sedate movie.

I also want to have a few drinks on occasion without the worry of kids pointing and laughing. I also want to jig across the dance floor. I also want to play a game of pool.

But there are no places for me to do that.

I am opting to stay at home. Rather irritate myself with cabin fever than mutilate a snotty rugrat.


Bloody kids!!!!



15 comments on “The Plan was…

    • Suppose I’ll have to start acting my age and live with the fact that if I maybe want to go out of an evening, it will either have to be spent in the company of rugrats, or with rednecks.
      Think my own company would be infinitely preferable!!

    • My sentiments exactly! If only they did not swarm quite so mightily!
      At the best of times, I only tolerate people. Drunk people, with very limited success. Drunk, young people? Hardly!!

    • I suppose there are Lisa. Bear in mind though, I live in Pretoria – home of the supposed macho male. I don’t really drink, and have almost no physical friends.
      Which makes a quick trip to the pub more an act of desperation than a good evening out!
      I’m such a silly rabbit – I should stick to my cats and fights with the neighbours 😉

  1. I hardly go out on the town unless I have plans with friends. A while back we were in a pub with a mixed age group, but mostly close to mine. We then moved to another and I KNOW what you’re talking about: swarms. A body can hardly BREATHE and there is no such thing as your space…I rather enjoy my own company too. Darn shame, though.

    • It is a damn shame!
      Because we value personal space, we’re relegated to the fringes of society because we don’t see the need to be swamped and trampled by the unwashed multitudes.
      And if you say it’s the same there, it would seem that there just are no place on earth where people over 30 can have fun of an evening 😉

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