Overheard

Unusually, I really enjoy hearing people talk loudly in public places. You know, when someone's having a high-volume run-down of last night's escapades on a mobile on the bus, and everyone rolls their eyes and looks huffy... well, I just sit there and grin. It's the joy of eavesdropping, without the guilt. (Come on. You can't help hearing!) It's like that Guardian Weekend column, the tiny plays about Britain. (Which, if the letters column is anything to go by, isn't liked by anyone but me either... but I love it. So much story crammed into so few words.)

Anyway, eavesdropping on public transport isn't, I have to admit, terribly rewarding. Most of the conversations are very like each other. But then there are the others.

[EXT. A station platform, mid-afternoon. A small group is hailed by a passing man who recognises them. Small talk ensues; it becomes apparent that they are all train company staff, who haven't worked together for a while. The usual catch-up: who's retired, who's moved away... personal news of any kind is pretty much lacking. Eventually the newcomer gets tired of generalities and makes an abrupt bid for attention.]

A: So my wife died two years ago.
B: ...I'm, er, sorry to hear that.
A: But I married again this February.
C: Ah... congratulations?
A: Oh, you know, you think you're going to be alone for the rest of your life, but... She was my daughter-in-law.
All: ...
A: Yes, my son was beating her up. She came to me for support.
All: ...
A: Yes in-deed.
B: Uh... gosh. Well.
A: Ho yes.
D: Well... um... how old is she?
A: [chortles] A fair bit younger than me, I tell you that much!
D: Thirty-something?
A: That's right. [pause] And French!
C: Gosh... And, er, I guess you don't see much of your son now?
A: Oh no, he comes round, we're all right.
C: Oh.
A: The rest of the family won't speak to me though.
B: Ah... that's your stepkids, is it?
A: Yup. They're not going to get the house any more. So they're fed up.
C: Ah...
B: Well, there's our train I think...