Tuesday, 31 July 2012
Monday, 10 January 2011
Drawn from an overheard conversation in a pub while a group of middle class, middle aged men attempted to 'out-street' one another by recounting dubious tales of neo-football hooliganism from their pasts.
Saturday, 19 July 2008
I like a floral dress me!
Mostly elevators are spaces where conversation ceases. In very tall buildings though where you can be in them for several minutes no such rules apply, as I discovered as I descended slowly from work one Friday night with an elderly couple who's weekend planning had gone awry.
Woman: (coyly)"How would you feel about…"
Man: (sensing danger)"C'mon, I'm holding my breath here."
Woman: "Andy coming to the house on Saturday?"
Man: "Andy who?"
Woman: "Andy, you know Andy. He just turned 65 and I haven't even acknowledged it."
Man: (scowling) "What do you mean' acknowledged it?' Who is this guy?"
Woman: "I mean I didn't even send him a card or call him up. I have to do something."
Man: (looking at the ceiling of the elevator as though it were the sky) "Well the weather doesn't look very congenial."
Woman: "He won't care about the weather. He's a very outdoors person."
Man :"Who is he again?"
Woman: (angry now sensing subterfuge) "Andy! My friend with the horses."
Man : "What horses?"
Woman "He used to run the polo stables in Uruguay, now he lives here."
Man: "Andy! Christ, he drinks, right?"
Woman: "He's an expert on wine."
Man: "He can come."
Woman: "I didn't say he was going to bring wine."
Man: "He can bring what he wants, I'm not going to be around."
Woman: "Where are you going?"
Man "There's a thing at the university."
Woman "Maybe we can all come?"
Man (staring hard at his reflection in the polished door) "Maybe."
Article by Michael Holden