Overheard in Cafe Nero, London Bridge

Sat outside Neros, basking in the early-May sun and waiting for my friend to return from the toilets, I overheard the woman at the next table telling her companion the following story:

“My colleague was house sitting whilst her brother and his wife went on holiday, which meant looking after their dog too. One morning, she came downstairs to discover that the dog had died in its sleep – she was horrified and wasn’t really sure what to do.

In the end, she decided that she should take it to a vet and at least get a professional opinion. Problem was, she didn’t have a car, so instead opted to place the dog in a large suitcase and take it on the tube.

This was fine, except it was a bit of a struggle to get it up the escalators. A man offered to help, but she said she could manage. After spending some time insisting, she eventually accepted his offer. At the top of the escalator he ran off – suitcase in tow!”

Companion: “What did her brother say? Did he mind about the dog?”

“Do you know what, I can’t remember. Apparently he was a little miffed about the suitcase though, it was a rather good quality one.”

No, I couldn’t believe it either. When she got to the bit with the escalators I was more worried that the suitcase had broken and the dog’s body had been flung to the bottom. I guess it’s a good job that wasn’t the twist in the tale.

Overheard on the 24 bus [x3]

“The funniest thing happened this morning. I was making my sandwiches and I keep my cheese in one of those plastic containers, like my lunch box. I get to college and realise I’ve brought a box of cheese instead of my box of sandwiches! So now I’ve got cheese – what am I meant to do with that?”

Ok, yes, a mildly amusing anecdote. But really, was it so amusing that it needed to be told in three separate phone conversations (within 15mins) on a semi-deserted bus in Camden? I think not.

(Apparantly she was going to use the aforementioned cheese to go with the pasta dish her friend was cooking for her that night. I usually prefer wine to gifts of cheese!)

Overheard on the 19:38 from London Bridge to Tulse Hill

[Incidentally, how precise is that for a post title?!]

The evening rush-hour is winding down, and the train is less full than usual. There are however two discernable crowds of people, carefully staying separate from one another. One clad in yellow, green and red; the other, in green and white. Snatches of conversation reveal that Jamaica are playing a friendly against Nigeria at the Milwall ground that evening.

Two teenage female Nigeria fans are stood just behind me, whittering on about nothing particular in that way that only teenage girls can…

Girl #1: “Man, South Bermondsey ain’t gonna know what’s hit it. Bet it’s never seen this many black people in one go.”
Girl #2: “Yeah man.”

[South Bermondsey, for all that Millwall’s reputation may lend it, is actually a pretty diverse area. After all, it’s practically Peckham.]

Girl #1: “These things say ‘London Opera Company’ on them. Did you nick ’em?”
Girl #2: “Yeah man.”
Girl #1: “I ain’t putting them in my bag! I don’t wanna handle stolen goods or nothing!”

Sometimes not listening to my ipod on the train is a real blessing.

Overheard in Waitrose…

[The two men behind me in the winding Waitrose queue are killing the time chatting aimlessly…]

Man #1: “Do you find that there’s things that she just never buys? Like Hen, she’ll never buy washing up liquid. She knows we’ve run out, she’ll just never buy it.”

Man #2: “Yeah, totally. If she had her way, we’d just have one tube of toothpaste in the house until it had nearly run out, but I like to keep a stock of at least 3 – just in case.”

Man #1: “That’s the problem with women, they just don’t understand shopping.”

Yeah, of course, that’s the problem! Their poor girlfriends/wives forget one simple thing at the supermarket & all of a sudden they’re regarded as useless shoppers. Men.

Overheard in the church toilets:

[I’m in a cubicle, listening to a conversation between a girl in another cubicle and one washing her hands.]

Girl 1: “Are you going to this 80’s night then?”

Girl 2: “Yeah, but I’m not really sure what to go as. You’re the 80’s baby, what do you think?”

Girl 1: “I don’t know, I was born in 1987, so I don’t really remember any of it. When were you born?”

Girl 2: “1990…”

Me: “You’ve both just made me feel very, very old.”

Here’s the thing, church is having an 80’s themed social, presumably chosen as a theme because it’s a decade most of us relate to. Did anyone else realise our latest intake of students are actually 90’s babies?

Anyone else feeling incredibly old?