Thursday, 29 April 2010
Saturday, 24 April 2010
Had decided to do some serious research into expensive pram / buggy one-upmanship (see Stoke Newington or similar where Bugaboo jousting is almost an olympic sport) but went for the feeble pun instead...Pramalot anybody? (I know, I know,)
(Original article here - http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/apr/24/michael-holden-all-ears)
(Article by Michael Holden)
Eating lunch at an outside table I was distracted by the intensity of
a woman’s voice nearby. I turned to see she was sat just along from
me, and had recognised an acquaintance of hers who was pushing a pram.
Woman 1 (as though the child were on fire) “Your baby!”
Woman 2 (proud, but nonetheless alarmed at the intensity of her
friend’s exclamation) “This is Sammy.”
Woman 1 (no less shrill) “Your baby has the cutest hair!”
I looked, and saw that the child in question boasted a sprawling mop
of curly hair.
Woman 2 (pulling at it to demonstrate its full scope) “Yes he does.”
Woman 1 (shaking her head in wonder as if present at the scene of a
miracle-as oppose to just some hair) “People must stop you all the
Woman 2 (uncertain) “Kind of…”
Woman 1 (noticing a Sesame St toy affixed to the pram) “You have Elmo!
We have Elmo too…”
Woman 2 “Sammy loves Elmo.”
The second woman’s husband appeared, he was on the phone. He hadn’t
much hair of his own. The women fussed over the child, he looked up
and down the street and then hung up reluctantly as though he knew
what was coming.
Woman 2 “This is my husband John-John, this is Susan.”
Woman 1 (without hesitation) “Your son has the most fantastic hair!”
Man (smiling weakly) “We have to get going.”
Woman 1 “I was just saying, your son’s hair…people must stop you all the time…”
Man “Yeah, well. We should really get going.”
Woman 1 “I wish I had my camera.”
Woman 2 (manoeuvring the pram away) “It was good to see you again.”
As they left the other woman’s face fell, as if having seen the hair
messiah, the remainder of existence seemed both bald and long.
Thursday, 22 April 2010
Tuesday, 20 April 2010
Saturday, 17 April 2010
(Article by Michael Holden)
In an American airport bar, I didn't notice what the woman sitting next to me had ordered, but I started to pay attention when she tried to negotiate over how long it should be cooked for.
Woman "Could I get that rare?"
Waitress "How do you mean?"
Woman "I'd like it cooked rare."
Waitress "I don't think we're allowed to do that. I think they all have to come the same way. It's good, though."
Woman (unmoved) "I don't want it medium rare or anything."
Waitress "I think it just comes how it comes. I never heard anyone complain about it. I'll check. Shall I check?"
Woman "Please check."
She left and came back triumphant, full of possibilities, channelling the remnants of the Obama vibe.
Waitress "Yes! Yes, we can do that."
Less than three minutes later the waitress brought the woman a plate of fish that looked anaemic. You could tell by sight that it would be a mistake to eat it.
Woman (pushing it away) "Can you cook this more?"
Waitress (taking it) "Absolutely."
She was gone for another few minutes and when she came back the fish looked edible. The woman, though, just looked at it sideways and prodded her Blackberry. Evidently she wasn't big on second chances.
Waitress (checking back, but happy to ignore the evidence on the plate) "How is everything?"
Woman (just as willing to maintain the delusion) "Everything's great."
Waitress (reaching for the untouched plate) "Are we done here?"
Woman (more right than she knew) "Yes we are".