Posted in Notepad Conversations

Overheard in a Café?

Well, not really overheard in a café… just written down in our conversation notepad.

Me: “Do you find mixed cultural groups get more ‘scratchy’ than more local or national groups?”
Mum: “No. You just have to look at student coffee groups to see how well the mixes get on.”
Me: “Students always get on well — they’re young, hopeful, living away from home and looking for friends. Older people are less interested in making friends — they have their kids.”
Mum: “Maybe ‘job envy’ comes into it.”

Me: “I’ve come to the conclusion that being ‘naive’ and ‘innocent’ is a kind of freedom. Not knowing all the things and people that annoy others. Being free to make up one’s own mind.”

Me: “I’m beginning to not recognize this town. Because the [censored] shop was empty, I walked right past the opticians next door. I was wondering why I didn’t see the opticians anyway, and realized it looks more empty than opticiany.”
Mum: “Did they not have Easter bunnies in the window? You get the feeling they’ve been breeding. There are more every day.”
Me: “That’s why we need more dragons.”

Me: “Songs are funny — I attached a Roxy Music song to a picture I uploaded, and got a quicker, more positive reaction than normal. It’s a point of connection, I guess — older people realize you come from the same place, so to speak.”

Mum: “Headline in the paper saying that primary children are to be allowed to use blogs and ‘Twitters’ at school.”
Me: “I find that strange. Workplaces are trying to stamp out the practice — shouldn’t wonder if some screen for blogs the way they screen for drugs!”

Me: “Even if I could answer phones, I’d never agree to be anyone’s Phone-a-Friend… in case they ask me which film had Ponderosa,  or which Spice Girl did what.”
Mum: “The idea is they ask things you would be likely to know.”
Me: “Unless all your friends listen to UB40, and blog rather than watch Eastenders/Pop Idol/football, in which case you might get asked the unanswerable question anyway.”
Mum: “More likely to get the Jane Austen ones.”
Me: “‘Irony’ [like in Jane Austen novels] is an odd word — I always thought I knew what it was, and every time I had to write an essay on it, I thought I did well… but always got a poor mark along with the comment that I hadn’t really got the point of it. Or something. I can’t remember what I did write in those essays!”

Mum: “There was an interesting programme about Narnia and C.S. Lewis last night. The thinking is that he wrote each Narnia story to represent one of the 7 planets recognized in antiquity. Lots of eminent scholars are backing up the thesis.”
Me: “Why would he go to all the trouble? Why planets?”
Mum: “Apparently he was very interested in planetology. Remember the books I was looking for — ‘Out of the Silent Planet’ etc. Also they said he wrote other stuff themed likewise. Said he was not a children’s writer — a v. learned academic.”
Me: “I prefer that to ‘children’s writer with an agenda’.”
Mum: “The programme was entitled ‘The Narnia Code’.”

Me: “It said on the blurb of Anthony Hopkin’s biography that he failed at school because he was too busy with his art projects — he does look like a bit of a dreamer.”
Mum: “Depends on what he failed at. To get into university, or O Levels?”
Me: “Can’t remember — could have been Highers or A Levels.”

Mum: “This [red] pen is a good writer. A lot of these coloured ones are terrible.”
Me: “Can’t remember where from — suspect Morrisons. V. cheap. If we have to lose pens in town, might as well be these cheap ones.”
Mum: “Do we?”
Me: “My two favourite Parker pens disappeared.”
Mum: “Might be in my jug on the desk.”
Me: “Long gone, even before I came here — but who knows? Might be in a forgotten pocket or bag. Or swallowed by the sofa — it recently regurgitated my cat brooch.”

Me (in Costa’s): “I hate it when all that’s left are the middle tables. We were lucky to get this one — I moved used crockery off it.”
Mum: “Students back. There seems to be a strange trend of lecturers and students having coffee while discussing work. Odd.”
Me: “We were spoiled in [censored] — we had our own street (cafe, book shop).”
Mum: “Lots of choice here nowadays. Not when E was up. She said they reckoned they couldn’t afford daily coffees anyway. A wonder she survived!”
Me: “We went home for coffee except when feeling adventurous.”
Mum: “Used to be that I went to town shopping and never dreamt of having coffee on my own.”

Me: “Girl out there with forget-me-not blue hair. Gone now.”

Mum: “Kirsty rang and said ‘Have you heard I have a new computer?’ I said ‘no!’ and she said ‘it is a lovely red one!!’ E says it’s like people when asked what kind of car have they bought say — ‘a blue one’.”
Me: “I hate it when people put a picture on the picture sites and never say anything about it — what their inspiration was, which software they used, etc. Just ‘enjoy!’ or ‘ 🙂 ‘ or nothing at all. Makes you want to slap them.”
Mum: “Or zap them?”

Me: “Don’t underestimate what people can hear — their ears flap so they can write ‘overheard in a café’ blog posts.”
Mum: “I know what they can hear. No chance unless they are at the next table.”

Or possibly this table?



I live in the UK with two cats -- Samson and Delilah.

3 thoughts on “Overheard in a Café?

  1. I loved reading these. I felt as though I was eves-dropping. :o) Hope you are ok. (and your mum of course!)
    (Should that be eaves-dropping?)

  2. Thanks, all is well here. I hope all is well with you two too. 🙂 I think younger folk overhear more than Mum thinks they do, but that’s just a suspicion.

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