JUST WHEN I THOUGHT I WAS OUT THEY PULL ME BACK IN*

 * Well, not directly me but they got The Old Girl.

"JUST WHEN I THOUGHT I WAS OUT ... THEY PULL ME BACK IN"

Last night I 'resigned' from the old folks club and from creating the monthly newsletter. A complaining email from a cranky member of the committee got my blood boiling. She was complaining abut a couple of minor information errors in the newsletter (nothing important). Since I've been producing this newsletter - as a favour to the club - I've been at pains to inform the committee that I was just  putting in information as received from the various committee members. In this case the information I was given was wrong. Instead of approaching me directly this person fired off the complaining email to a larger group. Sheesh!

I promptly sent a message to the president and the secretary tendering my resignation.

Have you noticed that elderly people can get a bit cranky?

This is always a mystery to me given that I'm all about sweetness and light.

Today, when I drove into town to pick up the new bespoke window blinds we ordered (maybe a series on curtains and blinds is needed), the president of the club who is a friend of The Old Girl called in to see if I was OK and to discuss my 'resignation'. As I was out The Old Girl entertained the president and - get this - told her that I had "thrown my toys out of the cot" because I was annoyed at the email. How about that? I know that it was true but I wouldn't have described my reaction in those terms. The president and The Old Girl apparently had a good old laugh and a chat  about that. Did I mention that the president is a woman? What is it about women and how they seem to get a buzz out of disparaging us men?

Anyway, when I arrived home the president had left and The Old Girl told me of the details of her visit.  I said that it was good that she came around but that my decision was irrevocable and the complaining committee member who was in fact the treasurer could write the newsletter.

The Old Girl said that this was discussed but that the president thought the treasurer would be incapable of doing this as she was a commercial cleaner schoolteacher accountant and had no creative flair. It was then agreed, as a favour to a friend, that The Old Girl would produce the newsletter herself for the rest of the year (the duration of the president's term).

WTF! I exclaimed (with an exclamation mark and not a question mark).

"You're on your own there pal" I said.

"Yes, I know" she answered "but how hard can it be?"

We will see. The problem with this exercise is not in crafting the newsletter, it is in gathering information from the club members, some of whom as well as being cranky can also be a bit doolally.