Much to my surprise a neighbour whom my family had wickedly nicknamed Sour Plums introduced me to his bride when we met in the lift going up to our respective flats during the Chinese New Year holiday.
“Lucy,” said Sour Plums, beaming from ear to ear. “Meet X. We got married recently.”
“Congratulations!” I said, though I was so surprised that I couldn’t stop myself from uttering the next few words — “My! that’s quick” — that probably makes me an enemy in X’s eyes forever.
Thankfully Sour Plums was still smiley and the lift reached my floor: before I felt compelled to try and explain what I meant and probably make the tactless remark worse.
I couldn’t wait to tell the news to my mother and the rest of the family.
“Sour Plums got married….”
“Never!” mum said, tho I wasn’t sure she could remember who he was without seeing him in front of her.
So, I elaborated for her benefit. “You remember his nice wife who was very sick…”
“Yes, she was always so sweet and smiling while he always looked grim and grouchy..”
OK, she remembers him all right.
That sweet, sick wife of his passed away perhaps five, six years ago. At that time, had anyone asked, I would have predicted that Sour Plums would never remarry — given his age and his far from attractive appearance. And his finances aren’t exactly in the same league as Peter Lim, the remiser king.
Clearly, I’m way off the mark! The woman he snared as his new wife, while no spring chicken, looks chic and spoke well, from the few words she uttered.
Guess attraction is in the eye of the beholder!