Oh yes. Of course they do.

For no particular reason, yesterday morning I was thinking about talking to strangers, and how (it seemed to me) these conversations can be divided into roughly two camps.

On one hand, there is the bonding conversation, in which you focus on what you have in common. ("You like chocolate? ME TOO!") These chats may be shallow (of course they aren't always) but they serve a valuable purpose in establishing a warm fuzzy feeling towards each other, and allowing a potential friendship to develop.

On the other hand, there is the mind-broadening conversation, in which you explore how different you are. ("You don't like chocolate? How fascinating, I didn't know that was possible. Please, explain.") This can be a bit harder than the bonding conversation, because you need to exercise more imagination and empathy to keep things moving forward, rather than just shutting down with "I don't understand you At All." But it can also be more rewarding, as it gives you new ways to think about things.

What had not occurred to me, though, in my idle ponderings, was what happens when an apparent bonding conversation goes suddenly a bit off the rails. I suppose there's really no reason it can't, properly managed, become a successful mind-broadening conversation; but the dislocation is jarring. This happened last night, at a Christmas party. I was exchanging desultory small talk with a chap, and we touched on the perennial favourite of how hard it is to maintain your social life in London, because seeing people requires hours and hours of travel.

"I mean it was all right when I was younger," he said. "At around 20, 21, I could just walk over to most of my friends, because everybody lives in Kensington & Chelsea."

I just nodded.

Communication, part deux

Another evening Chez Scroob. Another bout of concentration interrupted by a ringing telephone. Repeatedly.

rrrrring...*
"Can you send me a test email? I'm not sure this alias is working."

rrrrring...
"How big is your mailing list?"

rrrrring...
"Maybe if this ringtone weren't so annoying, you wouldn't mind the interruptions."

rrrrring...
"Love me?"

rrrrring...
"I think I made the hot chocolate too weak."

rrrrring...
"You know, I really enjoy these silly conversations of ours you've been uploading."
"...Uploading?!"
"Er - writing! Writing! Er, crafting into finely honed internet humour! Er... Hey, don't blog that!"

_____
* Only instead of "rrrrrring", it's actually more like "bloopy-beepy-bloop!bloop!" But that's harder to type.

Context is everything

Conversation:

"I mean, what kind of person are you if you HAVEN'T done drugs?"
"Right! ...So what does that make me?"
"Well, have you gone out of your way to not take drugs?"
"No."
"That's okay then."

...
"No I totally DID go to a strip club! They took their clothes off and everything!"

Possibly not the kind of earnestly defensive protestation most men make to their wives...

Geeked out

Conversation:*

"So are you doing anything fun this weekend?"

"Actually, I am. Tomorrow I'm being interviewed for a knitting podcast (fame at last!) and on Monday I'm meeting some blogfriends who are visiting from the US. Wow, putting those together makes for a pretty geeky weekend."

"That makes you practically a Dalek, actually."

"See, now I feel cool again."

_____
* Which took place over email. Does that increase the geek factor or not? I think not. Email is way too commonplace to be geeky.

Tis the season

2007 in first lines; or, the Mundane Meme.

January:
Anna Little Red Boat, investigative journalist extraordinaire, started quite the conversation while I was away.

February:
Alive, yes, Anything interesting to tell you, no.

March:
I have led such a protected, not to say wilfully deluded, life.

April:
Everybody knows Italy already — even if you've never been anywhere further than your neighbourhood pizzeria.

May:
But clearly a mismatch.

June:
The problem with lolcats is that, well, they're generally not so much lol.

July:
Two and a half weeks of visit later, matricide has been averted.

August:
Blah blahblah blahblah.

September:
Vivaldifan has just arrived from SA to start his new life here in Londonville.

October:
Holiday disasters (little ones):
Forgetting my work permit and changing my ticket.

November:
He did it again.

December:
Which of the following statements about my past week is/are untrue?

Conclusion:
Today I ate a cheese sandwich.

And should give you something at least as seasonal, and far more entertaining.

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...