They could have called this “clique-town” for want of a name. Not only are there cliques, there are cross-cliques, double-cross cliques, triple-cross-cliques and who know what else. I paint, so I am in the painting clique. Our members gather in dark corners and whisper about the lack of light, the drab colors and the fact that he trees that we painted in spring are now looking tired and dusty after the long hot summer.
I am also a member of the chair exercise clique and while we don’t whisper to each other we can be seen flexing muscles when another member comes close. Then there is the coffee drinkers’ clique who meets most mornings in the lounge. We talk loudly and do our best to discourage non-members of our clique from taking up space in our territory. “He can’t sit there – he doesn’t even drink coffee!”
I haven’t researched all the cliques and potential cliques yet, but I’m sure there are over 90 and over 95 cliques. For all I know here may be an under 70 clique whose members have decided to enter old age a little early. It has been said that one should move to a retirement home early in order to get the full benefits that all the activities offer. “Don’t wait,” says the marketing manager, “until you are too old to enjoy our activities!”
The cooking and baking cliques are much in evidence and a walk down any one of the corridors gives one a strong idea of what’s on the stove. We stopped this morning to sample the aroma of bread being baked and increased speed as we passed what was probably a Russian window that opened onto some heavy cooking. Recipes are exchanged and compliments or annoyances are the results of recipe swaps in the cooking clique.
And then there are about 20 different bridge cliques…