Commuted sentences
Jul. 6th, 2005 09:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cosmolinguistI couldn't even get on the first tram that went by. Nor, indeed, the second as it was Sorry Not In Service (yeah, I'm sure it was real sorry, leaving us huddled and soggy in the rain, getting our hopes up only to have them dashed again). I couldn't figure out why until I remembered it was five o'clock and I was in the city centre. Ah, yes, commuters! Some people have jobs, and don't spend all afternoon in a coffee shop talking about everything in the world and mocking a friend who's starting work there.
The tram I was finally allowed to get on was pretty full too, so I stood by the door. A man and a women got on together and grabbed onto the pole next to me. They looked to be maybe somewhere in their thirties and they wore nice but nondescript clothes ... in other words, I barely noticed them, except as obstacles. Anyway I was watching a kid standing in my line of sight reading stuff from his Forbidden Planet bag and thinking of how familiar a sight that is to me.
But then they start talking--well, the woman does. She has reddish hair and the kind of smile that peels her top lip back above her gums to reveal her interestingly crooked teeth. She says--to the person she's with, and I'm not even trying to listen but I have no choice but to be close enough to hear--"My mother was dating my father's brother. And one night he couldn't take her out, for some reason, so my father said, 'well, I'll go out with you.' And ..." she shrugged in that you-know-the-rest way.
"It was during the war," she said, "and so he had to leave again--he was in the Army. She sent him off tearfully at the station, and all that. The next day, someone told her 'Oh, I saw Joe yesterday.' 'Where?' 'In town, with his mates.' He'd wanted a night out and didn't want to tell her."
That made me smile, which made me worry, because I didn't mean to eavesdrop and I know how these Englishes are about apparent gestures of friendliness. (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
demiurgician had just told me about how she got a stalker by smiling. Not at him--just smiling.) But she happened to glance in my direction and was still smiling and not glaring or yelling at me or anything, so I figured that was a good sign.
"Honestly, I don't know why she married him anyway," she continued. When they were engaged he was introducing her to someone and said, 'This is my fiancée ...' and then looked at her and said, 'What's your name?' He was always terrible with names, though; he forgets mine sometimes."
I didn't hear a word from the guy but because he was there I got to hear these tiny, interesting snatches of someone else's life story. Much better than the usual inane teenage chatter, people on mobile phones who seem to think no one can hear them, or, more often, nearly total silence I'm used to on tram rides. It cheered up my chilled, damp self a bit.
The tram I was finally allowed to get on was pretty full too, so I stood by the door. A man and a women got on together and grabbed onto the pole next to me. They looked to be maybe somewhere in their thirties and they wore nice but nondescript clothes ... in other words, I barely noticed them, except as obstacles. Anyway I was watching a kid standing in my line of sight reading stuff from his Forbidden Planet bag and thinking of how familiar a sight that is to me.
But then they start talking--well, the woman does. She has reddish hair and the kind of smile that peels her top lip back above her gums to reveal her interestingly crooked teeth. She says--to the person she's with, and I'm not even trying to listen but I have no choice but to be close enough to hear--"My mother was dating my father's brother. And one night he couldn't take her out, for some reason, so my father said, 'well, I'll go out with you.' And ..." she shrugged in that you-know-the-rest way.
"It was during the war," she said, "and so he had to leave again--he was in the Army. She sent him off tearfully at the station, and all that. The next day, someone told her 'Oh, I saw Joe yesterday.' 'Where?' 'In town, with his mates.' He'd wanted a night out and didn't want to tell her."
That made me smile, which made me worry, because I didn't mean to eavesdrop and I know how these Englishes are about apparent gestures of friendliness. (
demiurgician had just told me about how she got a stalker by smiling. Not at him--just smiling.) But she happened to glance in my direction and was still smiling and not glaring or yelling at me or anything, so I figured that was a good sign."Honestly, I don't know why she married him anyway," she continued. When they were engaged he was introducing her to someone and said, 'This is my fiancée ...' and then looked at her and said, 'What's your name?' He was always terrible with names, though; he forgets mine sometimes."
I didn't hear a word from the guy but because he was there I got to hear these tiny, interesting snatches of someone else's life story. Much better than the usual inane teenage chatter, people on mobile phones who seem to think no one can hear them, or, more often, nearly total silence I'm used to on tram rides. It cheered up my chilled, damp self a bit.