And we hadn’t even got to lunch

31 Aug

The blind lady, having measured all of the windows, flicked past the samples from which I was intending to make my final selection, saying oh, they’re a bit tacky aren’t they…the kind of things the Asians choose. And later, when I explained that I was glad she had decided not to postpone our agreed meeting time because I’d already spent half the week waiting around for the oven guy (and no, he still hasn’t come) she said well, it wouldn’t really worry me, I don’t like to bake, I don’t really like to cook and then gave a loud laugh and looked at me in a meaningful way before she said I know! An Italian lady who doesn’t like to cook! and then told me a lot of details about her home life and the good care she takes of her sons. While my own sat in front of PlaySchool making demands such as ‘more toast please!’.

I ordered the blinds anyway, because I have used the company before and they are reliable and their prices are good and they do what they say they will do.

On the tram, the man across from me says – after my boy has done the ticket and told the whole tram that if there’s a red cross that means you’ve put it up the wrong way – I used to work for this mob I smile and nod, though I am expecting some long story about the way things used to be in the days when the young ones stood up to give you their seat, but he says until the accident, and the first thing I knew about the deaths was when the policeman said ‘you’ve been cleared’. And then he shakes his head and he looks at my little boy and says and all I had was glass in my eye.

Advertisements

16 Responses to “And we hadn’t even got to lunch”

  1. fifi August 31, 2007 at 5:37 pm #

    I can’t think of a worthy response to this except that i am sitting here very thoughfully, looking at your moment on the tram.

  2. ThirdCat August 31, 2007 at 5:45 pm #

    I didn’t know what to say either.

  3. Ariel September 1, 2007 at 6:55 pm #

    Oh my god. I wouldn’t know what to say either (original, huh?) I always find it quite amazing – and sad – when strangers spontaneously open up incredibly painful parts of their life to you. In fact, a man on the bus yesterday told me about how he’s fighting for custody of his kids because his ex is now hooked on heroin. It wasn’t as creepy as you might think – he and my son had been talking footy for the majority of the ride before he told me that. Sad.

  4. Zoe September 1, 2007 at 8:56 pm #

    wowzer

  5. Meggie September 2, 2007 at 8:12 am #

    Sheesh!

  6. genevieve September 2, 2007 at 3:51 pm #

    What they all said – plus I had to read the opening twice here, ‘blind lady’ caught me unawares and non compos and SUnday arvo-ish… Now i just feel silly.

  7. redcap September 2, 2007 at 8:29 pm #

    Good lord. How does someone open a conversation with a statement like that? Isn’t it polite to at least say, “Nice day, innit?” before telling a stranger about deaths you’ve been involved in?

  8. jane September 3, 2007 at 8:33 am #

    Thirdcat.I’m new to your blog here and just scrolled down to your embarrassing scooter accident.Just to make you feel like you’re not alone…one day, during school hours I decided to take my skateboard down to the local ramp and try it out. I was completely alone except for some women with toddlers way off in the distance at the play equipment.I tried it, and well.. I’m lucky I didn’t break my jaw, I fell so hard on the concrete. I’ll stick to horizontal I think. Hope your wounds healed.

  9. elsewhere September 3, 2007 at 8:46 am #

    I was initially confused by your opening sentence: ‘The blind lady, having measured all of the windows…’

  10. ThirdCat September 3, 2007 at 11:31 am #

    Wounds pretty much heeled, thanks Jane. I don’t think I’ll be getting on a skateboard. Were you supposed to be at school?

    Elsewhere, you were kind of supposed to be.

  11. bec September 4, 2007 at 11:54 am #

    Did you ask him which eye?

  12. Gianna September 4, 2007 at 1:49 pm #

    beautiful how you go from the blind lady to the man with the glass in his eye.

    last week i got talking to a 60-something lady on the bus, and she proceeded to tell me how her hubby of 28 years had recently left her for his secretary (natch). this lady was one of those groovy older women–wild blond curls and technicolor clothes, travelling with a granddaughter called Liberty.
    maybe it’s something about the openness of public transport, the shared experience of it, that fools people into excessive self-disclosure?

  13. Helen September 4, 2007 at 9:12 pm #

    maybe it’s something about the openness of public transport, the shared experience of it, that fools people into excessive self-disclosure?
    Yes! like blogging!
    There’s a post in there somewhere.

  14. jane September 4, 2007 at 9:26 pm #

    thirdcat, school is over for me, I’m 42.

  15. meli September 4, 2007 at 10:55 pm #

    ooooooooh, the blind lady. i stayed confused until here enlightened. shows you the state of my brain at the moment (hopefully this is a momentary thing?).

  16. ThirdCat September 5, 2007 at 8:47 am #

    or possibly, meli, it was my poor communication

    are you writing the post on the public transport Helen? Or excessive disclosure on blogs?

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: