Middlebrow forever

A colleague, knowing my proclivity for ‘middle’ asked if I had a middle name.

I reckon it was the timing of my birth that is the cause of my “middle” fixation. Ever since I was born smack in the middle of the night some five decades ago, my life has revolved around what philosophers allude to as the golden mean. I prefer calling it simply, the middle mentality.

I hail from neither a rich nor a poor family. We were what everyone calls a middle class family. More appropriately perhaps a middle-middle class family considering there are also upper and lower middle classes. Apparently, according to family elders, since childhood I fancied being in the midst of things and generally knowing what is going on around me. In hindsight it seemed just the right trait for the career that yours truly eventually chose.

Thus, early in life I rightly or wrongly opted for a middle of the road approach in matters big or small, avoiding extremes. In school, I always sat in the middle row, in cricket I was a medium pacer and mid-fielder. In theatres and aircraft, I run for the middle rows, on the roads it is the middle lane.

When I look back, I truly believe the most enchanting years of my school life were in middle school. The primary school days seemed quite an ordeal and high school brought its own share of pulls and pressures. In my mid-teens, like most students of our generation, I was drawn to western pop music and coincidentally became an avid fan of the Scottish pop group, Middle of the Road. In fact one of their tracks, Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep remained my favourite for long.

Marriage? It was neither love nor arranged, something in between is how I can best explain. Ironically, on the big day, the wedding ring didn’t fit the right finger but settled comfortably on my middle finger. A few months later it sat tight on the correct finger after I gained some pounds.

Last year I suffered a back ache and couldn’t tell whether it was the upper or lower back that hurt, my doctor diagnosed it as middle back pain. I couldn’t help but tell the physician about my middle syndrome. He laughed and jokingly warned me to brace myself for middle age crisis.

Recently, a colleague, knowing my proclivity for everything ‘middle’ asked if I had a middle name. I answered in the negative. “You’re sure it is not Middle?” she queried with a mischievous glint in her eye. What’s more, I plan only for the medium-term. And although I work for a global company that has offices in almost every country worldwide, I am stubbornly continuing in the Middle East for some time now. Not surprisingly in a mid-level position.

Any wonder then that when I first began writing I started off with “middles” and after so many years I am still stuck here – Right in the Middle.