The Blow In

When we moved to Singapore in January 1998, we joined the St Patrick's Society.  We didn’t rush to do it: what is the point of travelling if you’re only going to mix with your own kind?
  

Crossing Orchard Road, two weeks after our arrival, I stood in the scorching noon sun, and waited at the pedestrian crossing.   A blonde lady joined me.  She commented on the size of the baby asleep on my chest.    I told her his name and age.  She noticed my accent and told me she had an Irish friend.  She gave me the phone number of Deirdre Caher and then she was gone.    As an expat, I soon learned that random introductions happen like this all the time.   

      

With some misgivings, I rang Deirdre.  It was the single, most spectacular, best move I ever made.  Deirdre lived in the Four Seasons apartment complex and told me that she happened to be hosting a coffee morning the following Thursday.  Would I like to come?  Conor (baby) and I went.  

Over platters of sliced papaya and pots of Barry’s tea, I met Jennifer Heade, Mary Matthews, Mary Holland, Gretta Delaney and Deirdre Dempster. 

I was the last to leave.  Until I got there, I didn’t realise how much I pined for home and the familiar accents of Mary from Tipperary and Jennifer from Dublin triggered a longing to be among my own.    I stayed until Deirdre’s husband came home for lunch.       Before I left, Deirdre suggested I join the St Pat's Society.  She said, “I’m no longer a member but it will be the best fun you’ll ever have.”

The first event I attended was the St Pat's AGM which took place in the British Club which I thought ironic.  I found myself sitting at the same table as a couple called Liz and Des Gallagher.  Deirdre Dempster, from the coffee morning was also there and I got to meet her husband PJ for the first time.  

The AGM finished at 10 pm and oddly enough for a Saturday night, so did the bars.    No drink means no fun but the night was still young; nobody wanted to go home.  Then Des told a joke.  We all laughed.  My friend Nora who worked for CitCo at the time emailed me jokes every single day.  I remembered one of them and told a joke too.  Then Des told another and so did I.  It became joke tennis.  I'm glad I picked up the phone to Deirdre and that I lobbed back a joke at Des. That night set the tone for our great friendship.

Five years later, we moved again.  This time to Hong Kong.  Liz, who had lived in HK before recommended I join the St Pat’s Society there but warned it was different.  “They’re more highbrow in HK; their members are judges and successful entrepreneurs.  They’re not cuddly like us in Singapore.”  I printed off a membership form for St Pat’s HK, filled it out and posted it just before we left Singapore.

After spending Christmas with our families in Ireland, we arrived in Hong Kong on New Year’s Day 2003.  We moved into our serviced apartment in Parkview on Tai Tam Reservoir Road.  I didn't like Hong Kong at first.  I couldn't understand the fuss over this damp rock where it always seemed to rain.  And all this before SARS kicked in.   I missed the heat and my friends back in sunny Singapore.  

Tom and Conor started in Bradbury School on Stubbs Road and Joe had been accepted into PIPS pre-school.  We now had to start looking for a place to live.  In the meantime, I hadn't heard anything from St Pat's about our application.  

One evening after I had put the boys to bed and I was asleep myself, I heard my mobile phone ringing.  It was after 10pm but since Neil was on a work trip in Korea, I thought it might be him.   It took me a while to find my phone, it was in the living room, and by the time I got to it it had stopped ringing.   The missed call was not a number I recognised.  Assuming it was Neil, and still half asleep, I listened to the message:

“Hello Geraldine, it’s Ronan Delaney here, President of the St Pat's Society here in Hong Kong.    Geraldine, I’m looking at your application form and I’m not at all impressed.      It’s all over the place.  You haven’t filled it in properly.      There's gaps everywhere.    What sort of blow in are you?     Look, I’ll ring you again in the morning and then perhaps you can explain yourself.”

I sat in the dark. Stunned.  

Hot shame flooded my body.   My scalp prickled – always a bad sign.  

I listened to the message again.  

I exploded. Shaking with rage, I rang Neil.    He had been asleep.  Spewing indignation down the phone, I told him about the call.   

He said sleepily, “It sounds like a joke.”

I wasn't having any of it. “A joke?  How could it be a joke?   Who do I know in Hong Kong that would play a joke on me?!?”

 

 “When he rings you back, just stay calm.”

“Calm?  That fucker doesn’t know what he’s dealing with?!?”

“Can I go back to sleep now?” said Neil.

I hung up.   I went back to bed.  I couldn't sleep. Ronan Delaney did not know what he unleashed that night; he hit a raw nerve.  My mind boiled with indignation and insults. Who is this bog-trotter to tell me I wasn’t good enough?  The morning could not come fast enough so I could tell this Ronan Delaney just where he can shove his form. 

The next morning, as soon as I got Thomas and Conor off to school, I returned to our serviced apartment.   I settled Joe in front of the TV to watch a Fireman Sam DVD and braced myself for the call.

Just after 9am, the phone rang.  I snatched it and dashed to the bedroom;  I didn’t want to pollute my baby son’s ears.  I attempted a power pose but my legs were shaking too much to support me.  I sat on the edge of the bed quivering with indignation.  

“Hello, this is Ronan Delaney, is that Geraldine?” 

I took a deep breath and said, “It is.”

“Well, Geraldine I hope you got my message. Now, can you explain yourself?”

Struggling to keep my voice steady, I said carefully, “I didn’t think I'd need to have to explain myself.”

Then came the sound of smothered laughter and, “I can’t do this."  There was a pause and then, "Geraldine, this is Des.”

“What?”

“It's Des Gallagher.  From Singapore.”

“Des?”

“Look Geraldine, I can’t talk, I have a plane to catch.” And he hung up.

I sat on the bed dazed and just stared at the phone.  I needed to release. I rang Liz.

 

Liz was sympathetic, “That’ll be Des alright.  How're you getting on with Hong Kong?"

I told her I hated the place.  As she soothed my ruffled feathers, she assured me she would kill Des.

"You promise?"

"I promise."

As it happened, Des did me a huge favour.  Orla Thomas, secretary of St Pat's rang me later that day not only to tell me that my membership had been approved but also to invite me to their quiz which was taking place in Delaney's pub - no relation - in Wan Chai the following week.

I went along.  The minute I introduced myself, everyone responded, "Are you the one that Des rang last week?"  They all knew me already and I hadn't done anything yet.  

Des had arrived in HK on business the week before and had gone to a St Pat's event.    He asked Orla if a 'Geraldine Blake' had applied and she handed over my application form.  Des only intended to get my phone number and invite me to join them.  When I didn't answer the phone, he did something very naughty.  The fucker will pay for it someday.