Waiting in line at the bank I became aware of a mild disturbance at the customer service desk. A gruff elderly man was disgruntled. He had some issue with his TV license payment. The woman on the counter was trying to explain that he would have to contact the TV license people directly, but he was having none of it. He wanted it sorted now and saw no reason why Natwest should not be able to assist him. The woman explained again and again that there was nothing she could do and he would have to contact the License people directly, but he was having none of it. "Can you give me the phone number for the TV license people?" he asked this bank employee.
"No, we don't have the number. You will have to find it yourself."
The man, perhaps expecting Natwest to broaden their services just for him was insistent that they must be able to get it. "If they have an account with you then surely you must know their number," was the jist of his insane complaint, though I am not sure that even were that the case that he would be very happy if the bank gave out his number to anyone who asked for it. Plus directory enquiries or a computer would be able to furnish him with the information. But he was like a mad dog with something he imagined was a bone and wasn't going away despite the exasperation of the woman he was dealing with and the people behind him in the queue. Eventually when the woman said he would have to leave or she would call the police he backed off.
I had been trying to use the coin paying in machine earlier but it had spewed out my coins and shut down and after I'd done my other business I returned to the customer service desk to see if anyone was fixing the problem. The woman was still bristling and was a little bit short with me, but I didn't make a fuss. I felt sorry for her. I have to work with the public and occasionally one will come along that makes my life difficult. But my time with them is limited and they have to pay to see me so problems are rare. This woman is sitting just a couple of metres away from the street and people can come and talk to her all day long. And she has to be polite to them and can't just tell them to go fuck themselves like I can.
I headed up the road to have a coffee and write my blog while I waited for the coin machine to be mended. It was busy in there but I found a table eventually. Behind me a woman was talking with her young son, who was about 4 years old and at that age where he is asking difficult questions and then even if given a reasonable answer will come up with an even more challenging question. His mum was being very patient with him and really doing her best to answer him, whilst protecting him from the harsh realities of the world.
It is my job to eavesdrop. It makes me a better writer to understand how people talk and what they talk about. Also I am nosey. It's at times like this that I realise that my relative anonymity is a valuable weapon in my arsenal. I imagine if Ricky Gervais ever sits in a coffee shop, all he will overhear is people saying, "Isn't that Ricky Gervais?"
The conversation turned to marriage and who the boy would marry. The mother, who I think was doing an excellent job with her son throughout, took the time out to explain that although he might get married one day, he might not. Not everyone gets married, it's a personal choice and many people are happy without getting wed. That was pretty cool that she was keeping his lifestyle options open at this early stage. But then the conversation took a turn as the boy asked why mum and dad were no longer married. The mum was again excellent, explaining that her mum and dad had loved each other very much to begin with and that they both loved him, but that sometimes people argue with each other and it becomes difficult to stay together. The boy was concerned because sometimes he and her argued too, but she reassured him that she would always love him. She was very positive about the father and how great he was, but that things had just not worked out, but they were really good friends still so all was good.
"Maybe you could get married again," said the little boy in a small voice which slightly broke my heart, so goodness knows what it did to his mum.
"No, that won't happen I am afraid. It's very complicated."
The boy kept asking searching and difficult questions, but the mum deflected them kindly without turning her son against her ex-husband or giving him unrealistic hopes for the future. A little soap opera was playing out next to me, one full of poignancy, mild tragedy but also rather warm and hopeful. If I was a writer worth my salt I would have typed it up verbatim as they spoke or recorded or filmed it on my phone. And if I was a different person I might have jumped to my feet and shouted, "For God's sake woman, get back with your ex-husband. Can't you see how happy it would make your son? You are a terrible mother."
I didn't do that though, because I thought she was an amazing mother, doing her best to navigate her tiny son through the traumas of modern life in a responsible way.
Oh and tour presales are generally looking good. Aldershot is the only venue that has already sold out, but you might want to book now if you want to see the show in Brighton, Birmingham, Cardiff, Sheffield, Warrington, Exeter, Cambridge or Salford. I reckon you can probably take your time if you are wanting to come to Lowestoft where I have currently sold one of the 750 tickets. But the ones I have mentioned might be sold out before the start of the tour. It looks like being a rollercoaster ride of highs and lows, but am looking forward to it nonetheless.
