A stormy Sunday

Last Sunday was the afternoon of the WAFL grand final and of my friend's baby shower.

I am pleased (very pleased!) to report that Claremont won the WAFL premiership.

I am also pleased to report that my friend had a good afternoon, or at least that all indications would suggest so.

I still don't fully grasp the concept of a baby shower, but I can see that the idea of having friends come together to offer well wishes and congratulations, before the significant changes that a first baby brings, may be helpful to some.

For myself, it was bitter-sweet. I sometimes feel out of place at social events like this, where my friends are slightly older, or just in different stages. There were probably 20 people there, of whom at least 5 were pregnant, another 2 had children, perhaps 10 were married.

I don't want children right now. And whilst I was happy for my friend, and it was nice to catch up with other friends who I hadn't seen for some time, on that particular afternoon I really wanted to be at the football. Thinking of Mr Bite and his siblings amongst the crowd and excitement, whilst I made small talk about babies and social niceties, was hard.

I think the problem was that at the baby shower, I felt out of place. I didn't fully fit in. This made me acutely aware of one of the advantages of following sport, and perhaps one of the reasons I have come to embrace it. By following a team, you automatically belong (on one level at least) with others who support that team. This applies more than ever at final matches, and in large-scale crowds.

These thoughts, and the afternoon in general, left me feeling a little odd, a little sad. Anticipating a long and busy Monday probably didn't help either.

Unfortunately, the day didn't end there. As I was reflecting on these things, I received a knock on the door.

Without going into an excessive and boring amount of detail, it was a neighbour complaining about where one of our cars was parked. Some houses in our neighbourhood have street parking only, and this particular person seemed to view the bit of street out the front of his house as his private property. Although we weren't in his valued spot, we were, it seems, too close to it.

(I will note that we were parked somewhere we were entitled to park, according to parking regulations and council guidelines.)

I don't deal well with criticism, especially criticism delivered in the form of being told off. I generally end up in tears. I did on this occasion. I was teary before the conversation was half over, and when the neighbour had left, I proceeded to sob for some minutes.

I'm calmer now, the day has passed, and my emotions are back into smooth(er) waters. The day certainly got me thinking though, and I suspect will for some time yet, on the mystifying ways of society.

My conclusions thus far? All our efforts to feel like we're part of a group or a team (whether socially, in sport, or in other areas), and/or to honour social rituals, can seem meaningless when confronted with one rude individual with a personal vendetta.

It seems like there is something wrong with that.

Have you had negative experiences with neighbours? Or experiences that make you wonder about the ways of society?

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