Category
Overheard
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01.08.02Overheard on the bus (vi)Last night on the bus through Twickenham, two men in front of me were giving each other a running commentary on the shops and pubs and restaurants we passed.One of them said "Persian restaurant? What's Persian food like, then?"The other replied, "Oh, that's like bratwurst and sauerkraut and that."The first man thought for a moment, before saying "no, that's Prussian""Oh yes," said the second, turning to read the hoarding of a cinema, "Lord of the Rings - is that like a gay version of Lord of the Dance? All Irish dancing and stuff?"
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11.19.01The NoteNightmarishly busy day.There was a woman on the bus from High Street Ken today, with big frizzy hair, noomeeja specs and a postbox red woollen coat. She sat down next to me, carrying too many bags covered in too many designer labels, and rummaged around in the smallest one, the brown one, for her bus pass. She flashed it at the conductor briefly, and then stopped as she noticed a slip of paper sticking out of the back - she unfolded it, and I peered nosily to the right to catch a glimpse.It said, in an unmistakeably italian hand (ever ...
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10.31.01The gig that would not endBlimey. I'll say something about that Eddi Reader: she certainly gives good mileage for your money. Last night's gig lasted for over three hours including support (weak) and she was on stage for over two of them. She just kept on going and going and going. Every time you caught yourself thinking "no, this must be the last one" she would just carry on.It must have been a die-hard Eddi fan's wet dream.However, unfortunately, I am not that fan. I like Eddi R, but not loads. I've got some of her albums, I know the words to most of her ...
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08.18.01Pinky OutThere was a little middle-class kid, maybe three years old, wearing Gap clothing in Sainsbury's earlier, being dragged along by his vaguely posh North-London mum. He was dawdling. She was saying "Come on Harry!" and he was chanting loudly "Fucking ... fuck ... fucking ... fuck ... fuck fuck ..." And yet as much as she complained about his dragging feet, she uttered not a word about his conversation skills.What is West Hampstead coming to?
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04.27.01More Deli ActionWaiting for marmite on toast in the deli-from-helli this morning, I was standing next to an old man, who asked for a toasted bagel and a strong cappuccino. He was about 5'3", wrinkly and pink, in a typically English kind of way, wearing a cravat and a heavy coat, though it was a delicious spring morning for the first time in weeks. He greeted the serving staff (this morning: DishPig and BadCop) amiably and with familiarity. His accent was pure Kensington. They chatted for a while. Then BadCop asked him if he wanted chocolate sprinkles and he said "Si, por ...
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04.05.01Prelude to a kiss?"Just kiss her," he said, gesticulating passionately, "if you want to kiss her, you should do it." We were standing at the bus stop, waiting for the number thirteen to drag us up the hill and homewards. Well, they were standing at the bus stop. I was opposite them, outside a newsagents, standing, eavesdropping with a bag of vegetables in one hand and a bunch of bright pink and orange gerberas in the other - my present to myself for surviving Wednesday. They were only a metre away, deep in earnest conversation, and I was transfixed. "It's like bungee jumping, you know? ...
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01.09.01OverheardWoman in fur coat outside Armenian sandwich shop: (alone and loudly, to her small dog, on a lead) "...of course when she's on her way to lunch, she runs twice as fast as him."
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