Ah, holidaymakers. Can’t live with em, can’t live without em. Such is the case for this town anyway. The summer holidays are over, so it ain’t as busy as it was, but still busy enough. My main complaint regarding this state of affairs is not with the amount of people per se, but the increased likelihood of my being asked for directions. Being asked for directions is a pet peeve of mine – mainly, I think, because I’m useless at giving them. My mind tends to go blank. But there’s another reason.
I rediscovered recently my love for R.E.M.’s song ‘The Great Beyond’. I hadn’t listened to it in, ooh, ever so long. So before setting off into town today, I synced it to my MP3 player so I could listen to it while on the move, earphones in. It was just getting into the final third of the song, where the chorus repeats over and over, and the sound fills out, and the strings soar, and it becomes very stirring – to me anyway. (In fact, I was almost getting bleary-eyed with the swelling up of emotion. Or maybe that was just the bracing sea breeze getting in my eyes. Yep, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure it was the wind that was making my eyes watery.
) A passing woman moves her mouth at me. Though I cannot hear, it is clear I am being addressed. I stop and quickly yank out my earphones – so I don’t miss anymore of what she’s saying.
“Sorry?”
“I said, ‘Are you local?’"
“Er, yeah.”
“In that case, could you tell me how to get to Big Gay Joe’s Waterbed Emporium?” (Ok, I’m making the place up – the destination is not important here.)
“You fucking dick!” (you want to say). “You ruined my song!”
Politely I issued the directions. Cos, you know, I’m not SUCH a bastard. It was quite an easy one. I’d have been more pissed off it was something I couldn’t help her with. Heh.
I rediscovered recently my love for R.E.M.’s song ‘The Great Beyond’. I hadn’t listened to it in, ooh, ever so long. So before setting off into town today, I synced it to my MP3 player so I could listen to it while on the move, earphones in. It was just getting into the final third of the song, where the chorus repeats over and over, and the sound fills out, and the strings soar, and it becomes very stirring – to me anyway. (In fact, I was almost getting bleary-eyed with the swelling up of emotion. Or maybe that was just the bracing sea breeze getting in my eyes. Yep, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure it was the wind that was making my eyes watery.
) A passing woman moves her mouth at me. Though I cannot hear, it is clear I am being addressed. I stop and quickly yank out my earphones – so I don’t miss anymore of what she’s saying.“Sorry?”
“I said, ‘Are you local?’"
“Er, yeah.”
“In that case, could you tell me how to get to Big Gay Joe’s Waterbed Emporium?” (Ok, I’m making the place up – the destination is not important here.)
“You fucking dick!” (you want to say). “You ruined my song!”
Politely I issued the directions. Cos, you know, I’m not SUCH a bastard. It was quite an easy one. I’d have been more pissed off it was something I couldn’t help her with. Heh.
