Statisticians call it Sampling.
You know, randomly picking out a few individuals from a big group and looking out for a particular trait, which, if present in adequate numbers, is deemed to be a representation of the population in question.
I joke that if the Ministry of Community Development, Youth and Sports (this Sports thing is a stupid,
Wannabe appendage added on as a conveniently vain after-thought) were to take a particular circle of my friends as a sample of Marital Bliss in sufficiently successful 30-somethings, I think the dear Minister would have his work cut out for him. There are 6 of us. And by some cruel stroke of fate, not divine intervention (but a couple would beg to differ), we are all divorced. Yes, a Divorce Club if you like, the D.C. Not to be confused with the other D.C straddled in between the states of Maryland and Virginia. My D.C wanted to plan a trip to visit D.C. But that was a month ago and I am being really corny.
Its an unspoken support group of sorts. Where thankfully, there is no pitiful reminiscing of the good 'ole times or lots of Wallowing Whisky. OK I take that back. There is some Scotch involved but always in a happy, drunken stupor kinda way. Geddit? Instead, we concentrate on biking, trying to fill our dull Saturday evenings with
makan at new places or a night out clubbing and generally try to be there for each other when the going gets, err, lonely.
We are thinking of expanding, since we need 5 more to start a football team. But recognise that that would not be in line with National objectives. We're all for Make-Ups, not Break-Ups. Although we giggle that we have the latter to thank for bringing us together. Oh yes the irony.
And now, one of us is down. Like a fallen platoon mate shot in the foot and who can proceed no more into this Jungle we call Life. It is as if fate has not been sufficiently unkind, so it has to deal another awful deck of cards to the sextet of sorry Poker losers. Just for kicks.
The D.C is sad. But we'll rather be shot ourselves then to leave one of us out there alone with a festering wound.
The
Chinook is on its way. We're sure of it.
Labels: Nonsense