I meet great characters while sitting and enjoying my coffee
live by the coast and as I sat in a beachside café on Saturday, sipping a coffee while waiting to pick my daughter up from her 17th activity of the weekend, I watched with interest a couple in their 60s at the next table.
They were noteworthy for the fact that in the entire 45 minutes I was there, they didn’t exchange a word.
Then, as I was about to leave, the woman – who looked from the appearance of her leathery skin as though she either spent way too much time in the sun or smoked 60 cigarettes a day, or perhaps both – leaned forward.
“Isn’t it strange, Brian”, she said, gazing out of the window at the sandy expanse before her, “they keep going on about climate change but the sea here is always out and never gets any closer.
“It just proves what a load of rubbish all that globalwarming talk is”.
Brian continued, as he’d done for the previous three-quarters of an hour, to stare blankly ahead, then suddenly jerked – as if prodded by a sharp stick – nodded his head and said with surprising firmness, “you’re right Margaret, very strange”, as if she had just proved beyond doubt that climate change is a load of codswallop and the world’s leading scientists haven’t got a clue what they’re talking about.
I stayed an extra 10 minutes in case this exchange led to an interesting debate, such as, you know, Brian pointing out in animated fashion that if climate change was a thing then farmers in some regions might benefit from the earlier onset of spring and from a longer warm season suitable for growing crops.
But then Margaret might
Iheatedly counter and tell Brian this benefit would be outweighed by the fact many invasive plant species and insect pests will also thrive in a warmer world.
Alas neither happened and instead they lapsed back into silence and not another word was spoken, making me wonder how they spent their evenings and how on earth their marriage had preserved, if they were indeed married (I really hope they were because if they were lovers, it would be the dullest extra-marital affair of all time).
Anyway, I digress.
The thing is, I hear a lot of stuff like this because I go to cafes a lot – a result of having too much free time during the day – and I find them an excellent place to work, mainly because you get to hear wonderful conversations and meet great characters.
I have made friends, for instance, with a man called Brian, who is – and this is totally true – a transvestite and spends his days dressed as a woman.
The first time he walked in, I must confess I was a little taken aback – I mean it’s not what you expect to see at ten past nine in the morning when you’re munching on a bacon toastie.
But I’ve got to know him quite well now – he worked as a plumber until retirement and says he likes to dress as a woman because it makes him feel liberated – though I’m not sure we’re quite at the stage where I’d invite him back for tea, not least because it might lead to some awkward questions from the kids (‘dad, why’s that woman got a beard?’)
Then there’s Charles, who not only carries his own cloth with him (before sitting he vigorously wipes the table and chair, presumably to make sure there are no germs in the vicinity) but a knife and fork too.
I think it takes a special kind of individual to bring one’s own cutlery to a café – though if it makes him feel better, who are we to argue?
Another hobby of mine is earwigging.
For instance, the other week I was ambling along when I passed two women, one of whom said, “well no one likes Elsie anyway”.
I felt a strange need to find out just why Elsie was so unpopular, so did a U-turn and began tailing the pair.
By the time they shook me off some two miles later, I’d discovered Elise has never once contributed to the cost of biscuits at the bridge club and refused to visit Maurice in hospital after he broke his collar bone.
The other thing I do more in old age is get annoyed by the signs people – normally posh people – put outside their homes.
For instance, a ‘no turning’ sign at the end of a driveway, which has to be the height of pomposity and brings to mind a paragraph in Bill Bryson’s Notes From a Small Island, in which he writes, “just how petty do you have to be, how ludicrously possessive of your little piece of turf, to put up a sign like that?”, adding – and to this day I make sure I follow this advice – “I always make a point of turning round in such driveways, whether I need to or not, and I urge you to join me in this practice.
“It is always a good idea to toot your horn two or three times to make sure that the owner sees you”.
The sign I personally find most irksome is, ‘No Parking: Garage In Constant Use’, stuck on a garage door that has clearly not been opened in several days, possibly months in some cases I have come across.
I once stopped for two hours near a garage adorned with a ‘in constant use’ sign, just to see if anyone came in or out. Lo and behold, they didn’t. I was certainly not surprised
I can only imagine that once, probably about 17 years ago, a dozy driver parked his car there and the householder was so enraged he immediately hot-footed it out to buy a sign.
I could continue, but I can feel my blood pressure rising, so I will leave it there until next week…