Droplets of eve.

A good opening gambit, there, James. I respond with a couple of supermarket stories, number one:

I approach the cashier in Sainsburys at lunchtime. I'm buying my usual bottles of diet coke and tubs of mass-produced super-sweet rice pudding. She rings them up, I pay with a note, so far, so good. She opens the cash drawer to get me my change, and sits staring at it for a few seconds. Then she picks up a little plastic bag full of coins from the back of the drawer and tries to open it. She scrabbles at it with her nails and tries to pick open the corner. Finally, noticing, perhaps that I am getting restless, she takes the top into her mouth, closes her teeth on it, locks eyes with me and pulls the bag downwards. The bag stretches for ever, as she leans her head back, sticks out her lower jaw and gurns it open. At last the plastic tears, and she pours the fifty pence pieces into the till, before handing me my thirty-six pence of change.

"Sorry that took so long", she says, cheerfully. Indeed.

And number two:

I'm in the home-maintenence aisle, looking for black refuse sacks, when two girls approach from the opposite direction:

"Here we are - bin liners", says one.
"No, no, those are bin liners, we want rubbish bags", responds the other.
They argue about the various merits of each, and decide to get both.
"Ok, bin liners and rubbish bags - will these be big enough?", says the first
"Actually - do we even know which night our bins go out?"
"I don't know..."
They contemplate for a second, then the girl who has just spoken continues:
"Actually, do we even have a bin?"
"I don't know - I haven't seen one"

After giving a few moments more personal contemplation to this technical hiccup in their plan, they give up on bins and wander on to look at the bleach shelf.

Hope that was good enough, and expect future mundanities in the future if I feel uninspired.

Super-happy-blogathon score: 1

Overheard

A gentleman on a pushbike nearly collides with a woman crossing Wimbledon Hill Road in the early evening. He doesn't stop, but they conduct a short and increasingly loud exchange as he accelerates away.

Man: Watch it, darling!
Woman: (annoyed) The light was red!
Man: (shouting over his shoulder) Suck ... my ... dick!
Woman: (screaming after him) Shut the fuck up you foul-mouthed prick!

Marvellous.

Conversationally

So picture the scene. Big London theatre. Glitzy night out. A group of us on our way to see a certain comedian. Delightful. As we traipsed through the wood-panelled and richly carpeted interior, we came accross an employee of the theatre, standing in front of the door apparently leading to our seats. Dressed smartly, and with a polite smile on his face, this gentleman was clearly epitomised the stylish, classy experience we had come to the theatre for. However, he still stood between us and our seats. Hoping for directions to our place in row P, one of my companions held out her ticket towards him and asked "P?", hoping to be ushered through. His response? "The toilets are just through there, madam". And to our laughter and my companion's faux-shocked "what kind of woman do you take me for", he offered only a shrug and the cryptic "Welcome to Shaftesbury avenue, mate" in response.


Now we're on a bus in beautiful suburban Putney. Towards the back of the bus are two kids on their way to school. I guess about 9 or 10. They're behind me, so I can't really see. Unfettered by any adult supervision. Apparently playing some sort of game.

Boy: "Look, there's a silver car"
Boy: "Made you look" *punch*
Girl: "Ow."
Boy: "Look, there's a house"
Boy: "Made you look" *punch*
Girl: "Ow."
Boy: "Look, there's a lamp-post"
Boy: "Oh my gosh, look... look!"
Boy: "Oh my days. I made you look" *punch*
Girl: "Ow."

at this point, the girl was apparently becoming wise to his subterfuge, and so he had to change the game they were playing in order to continue with the fun.

Boy: "Double E" *punch*
Girl: "I thought we weren't playing that any more"
Boy: "We're always playing it. Double A" *punch*
Boy: "Double P" *punch*

it became apparent that they were looking at repeated letters on anything outside the bus, particularly number plates.

Boy: "Double N" *punch*
Girl: "Double V" *punch*
Boy: (spotting a sign with a telephone number on it) "Double O. Triple O." *punch* *punch* *punch*
Girl:"What do you call it when there's four O's?"
Boy: "Qu-triple O" *punch* *punch* *punch*
Girl: "Ow."
Boy: "Double upside-down M" *punch*
Boy: "Double Z. Double G. Double 4" *punch* *punch* *punch*
Girl: "Where? You're making them up!"
Boy: *laughs*


And finally some shorter ones, such as the guy on the train who broke off his conversation with his mates about the amount they'd be drinking that evening to watch a woman walk past them and leave the train and then remark to his companions: "Ooh, big legs... big legs". It wasn't clear whether this was a compliment or not.

Or the girl behind the bar, who felt the heat coming out of a freshly opened dishwasher and stated "Ooh, I'm right cold. I wish I was a glass, so I could just sit in there all night".

Or the guys on the tube who went from discussing business, to giggling like schoolchildren when someone farted nearby. "That's good!" one of them pronounced. "That's fucking Camembert!"


Who needs an ipod when the people around you can be so entertaining.