I'm a terrible eavesdropper. My wife really hates it, but I can't help it, can't tune people out even if I want to. Yesterday I was in Soho Square at lunchtime quietly reading my book and this couple sat down on the same bench. They started talking about prayer groups and stuff. Then the woman reacted strongly to something the man said. "You never told me that!" she said. "Yes I did," he insisted. "In the kitchen. I was talking to you in the kitchen." "You didn't tell me that though." "I did." "It wasn't me. It must have been someone else." "No, it was you. I told you." I was finding it very hard to concentrate on my book as I strained to find out what it was he had or hadn't told her. "So you're going to be a priest?" she said. "Sure," he answered. But was that an ironic "Sure"?

And then later on the same day, as I was going home, another couple, she in a terrible state, tears, raving, he, trying to console her and calm her with his hands on her face, "Calm down! Calm down!" "I'm going to kill him!" she screamed. "Seriously, I'm going to stick a knife in him. I mean it." It sounded like she did as well. What was all that about?

Hmm. The beginnings of two stories? Or would the challenge be to work them into one story. After all, both incidents took place on the same day, one in Soho Square, the other just around the corner in Soho Street.

The storyteller in me can't stop speculating. What if the "him" the second woman wanted to kill was the guy who may or may not be intending to become a priest? Is it all too far-fetched? Dunno.

Sorry. Rambling.

You have to write it now, Roger - I need to find out what happens! I like the idea of an eavesdropper getting embroiled in something . . . the 'innocent bystander' strikes again, as in TC?

Yes, I eavesdrop shamelessly - never have a Walkman/MP3 Player, even on buses where I can't read. It's so good for your ear, as well as your stock of stories.

I'm still trying to work out what the girl on the last train from Birmingham New Street to Euston had done, to be skipping out on a £500 bail...

Emma

I recall watching a Benson and Hedges cricket cup final quite few years ago; Bears vs Pears.

Behind us a group of glaziers from Brum were having quite a conversation.
Not interested in the cricket they were immersed in work. They'd just fitted out a brothel.

But the subject of their conversation was not who was doing what to whom and with what accessory; but was an in-depth discussion on the technical difficulties they'd had transporting and fitting the two way mirror.

And it hasn't made my book - but perhaps it should.

It should, it should!

Emma

Lol Murphy: the technical details of fitting a two way mirror while gingerly stepping over the working girls

Lovely!


I was walking in a garden, years ago with my husband. Coming towards us we saw two gentlemen, deep in conversation. They looked too neat and dapper to be English.

Their heads were bowed, and they were talking in hushed tones... but as they passed us we heard:

"Ja. Und I haff done it mitt a fieldmouse...."







Vanessa

Great stuff. It's the out-of-contextness that does it, isn't it. I don't WANT to know what they're were all talking about because finding out shatters my potential illusions.

And what about crazy things you see happening, rather than over hear? A friend of mine was driving along in his car one day, stopped at the lights, and heard a terrible banging on his window. He looked round and a man, a complete stranger was punching the front passenger window, so hard that his fist was bleeding. He thought 'Oh no, I've run over his dog or something' but then a woman came running up and grabbed the man and started hugging him. He'd never seen the guy before in his life - just happened to wander onto the scene of his breakdown. I really wonder what was going on with that man that he was driven to punch the first car he saw! And who the woman was that hugged him!

I once overheard on a bus, two elderly women chatting, and one of them said thoughtfully, "I'm not a lover of lamb chops..."

Blimey, it's all happening where you are, Rog. Round here the most conversation I hear is one blackbird to another, or occasionally the sound of the postman saying 'Morning!' to somebody or if I'm VERY lucky a brief argument from the alleway opposite between two little boys fighting over a football. It's a wonder I ever get inspired to do anything.

Yes, overseen, and this is perfect happenstance - I'm currently stripping wallpaper from a bedroom wall, and I keep coming across pencilled words. Most of them are unreadable, but one, on a wall of its own, says simply, 'Fuck!'.

I'm picturing all sorts...

When i studied interpreting our lecturer insisted that we train ourselves by sitting in a pub, talking to friends, but at the same time eavesdropping to the table behind us.

Professional eavesdropping.

Casey

I love the notion of 'professional eavesdropper' Casey. Maybe you could hire yourself out, pick up delicious snippets of conversation, and sell them to the highest bidder.

Leila - "I'm not a lover of lambchops" made me laugh! What a great first line!

Myrtle, yes, it did seem like I was being transported back into TC-country! I like the randomness and fragmentedness of it all. I agree with Zoe that I don't want to know what it's all about. Hmmm. This has really got me thinking!

Someone writes a column based on eavesdropped conversations, I think.

I wonder if you (one) could write a novel that suggested all sorts of stories but refused to tell any of them. Left it up to the reader to imagine what it was all about. Would probably be very unsatisfying and frustrating, but...

It's the kind of mad idea that appeals to me, I have to admit.