Avoiding expectations

As I heartily embark on another slice of birthday cake to mark another year of well-kept existence, I have begun to deal with the growing side order of expectations.

I guess it comes with age. Although, unlike a fine wine that matures it reaps no benefits. The expectation to follow a course set by the masses is one I am not easily digesting.

It seems a little unfair to expect that the three-course meal of mortgage, marriage and multiple offspring should be to everyone’s tastes. It also seems a little out of order to assume we all want a seat at this table.

By avoiding these expectations and freely exploring what is delectable to my palate, I’ve been spared the pain of indigestion.

I am one of the lucky few it seems.

But it doesn’t leave me with an after-taste of smugness for I must witness many of my friends desperately queuing or queue-jumping for a seat. Their relief of fitting in is palatable.

I wonder when they get there – when mortgage, marriage and multiple offspring – will they delight in the experience or be hungry for the next course?

Like any good chef, sometimes the pressures of timing can overshadow the passion of savouring what we have now. It all becomes a little scientific and bland without that lovely unexpected burst of flavour a secret ingredient like spontaneity can bring.

Give me a tapas bar any day – it all comes at once and it’s totally free-style.