There is a problem that happens when you get three Generation X women out for the night.
They start to sing.
We bond over the music, because we are Generation X and we have the best music ever.
And it doesn’t matter that we haven’t really met before, or that one of this is a complete ring in. We’ve had dinner together, and we can stand in an ice cream shop at the end of the wharf in Darwin and sing along to Billy Joel songs, apologising every verse or so to the girl behind the counter.
"Do you find yourself singing along to Coles Radio?" one of us asked.
"I have a dance routine to do with the trolley," said one of our group, before breaking into a verse of April Sun in Cuba.
"I'm not that bad, but I will break into a chorus down the cat food aisle."
But as middle-aged women, who don't give a stuff about much, singing in public is one of the small joys that you cannot take away from us. We refuse to be embarrassed. We are nearly in tune. We sort of know the words.
And this is how we bond.
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