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jemck at 09:40am on 06/09/2007
jemck at 09:40am on 06/09/2007I had need of a few things from the shops this morning, and since both sons are now at secondary school and leaving the house earlier*, I decided to head out at the same time. So I was in town as the weekly market was setting up.
En route to elsewhere, I passed a stall-holder telling a window cleaner who was just finishing up a shopfront about finding a homeless man who had broken into a lock-up where the stallholder kept stuff, not stock but tables, canvas that kind of thing. So the stallholder hadn't been there for a few weeks and this homeless man had pretty much moved in. So what did you do, asks the window cleaner. Slung him out, says the stall-holder, him and all his [expletives deleted]. The window cleaner laughed and shouldering his bucket and squeegee observed by way of a parting shot that the next thing the stall-holder should expect was the homeless man putting in a claim for his losses.
And I went on my way and did my shopping and headed back to my bike. Passing the same stall-holder I heard him retelling his tale to one of the litter-bin emptying blokes. Only this time he concluded, 'and you know what, done three grand of damage, the [expletives deleted], and now he's suing me for chucking out all his gear!'
I wonder where the story will have got to by close of business. The thing is, I don't think the stall-holder is consciously setting out to tell lies. He's got a good story to tell and when something comes along to make it better, he's incorporating it. I have seen this time and again as my sons have grown up - and I've seen rumours get completely out of hand as adults have succumbed to the same temptation.
*Ah yes, the earlier start. The past three years have seen me and elder son up at 7 am so he can leave around 8 to get to the secondary school for 8.30 registration. As he and I are both slow to start in the mornings, we've pretty much managed with companionable grunts as we pass each other between bathroom and bedrooms and eaten our breakfast listening to Radio 4 without much need of conversation that neither of us can really manage till we've been up for at least half an hour, preferably 45 minutes.
Then younger son would get up around 8 am, since the primary school starts at 9 am and is a five minute walk. He, like husband, can go from fully off to fully on in the mornings. OK, not a problem previously because by 8 am I have been capable of discussing plot points in StarGate, interesting things he's read in his Horrible Science comic or the unfathomable mystery of girls and their hair or whatever is currently at the forefront of his brain.
Only now younger son is also up at 7 am, even more active than usual because it's his first week at Big School and he has new teachers and new lessons and new routine and oh, so much else that he wants to tell me about and compare notes with his brother about.
While senior son and I are both still waking up and what brain function we have as yet is fully occupied with complicated thought processes like - Pour Cereal in Bowl. Add Milk. Where Milk? Open Fridge. Find Milk. Try to Shut Fridge. Get Cat's Nosey Nose out of Fridge. Shut Fridge. Pour Milk in Bowl. Sit at Table. Push Milk-seeking Cat off Table. Eat Cereal.
This is going to take some getting used to, I can tell.
En route to elsewhere, I passed a stall-holder telling a window cleaner who was just finishing up a shopfront about finding a homeless man who had broken into a lock-up where the stallholder kept stuff, not stock but tables, canvas that kind of thing. So the stallholder hadn't been there for a few weeks and this homeless man had pretty much moved in. So what did you do, asks the window cleaner. Slung him out, says the stall-holder, him and all his [expletives deleted]. The window cleaner laughed and shouldering his bucket and squeegee observed by way of a parting shot that the next thing the stall-holder should expect was the homeless man putting in a claim for his losses.
And I went on my way and did my shopping and headed back to my bike. Passing the same stall-holder I heard him retelling his tale to one of the litter-bin emptying blokes. Only this time he concluded, 'and you know what, done three grand of damage, the [expletives deleted], and now he's suing me for chucking out all his gear!'
I wonder where the story will have got to by close of business. The thing is, I don't think the stall-holder is consciously setting out to tell lies. He's got a good story to tell and when something comes along to make it better, he's incorporating it. I have seen this time and again as my sons have grown up - and I've seen rumours get completely out of hand as adults have succumbed to the same temptation.
*Ah yes, the earlier start. The past three years have seen me and elder son up at 7 am so he can leave around 8 to get to the secondary school for 8.30 registration. As he and I are both slow to start in the mornings, we've pretty much managed with companionable grunts as we pass each other between bathroom and bedrooms and eaten our breakfast listening to Radio 4 without much need of conversation that neither of us can really manage till we've been up for at least half an hour, preferably 45 minutes.
Then younger son would get up around 8 am, since the primary school starts at 9 am and is a five minute walk. He, like husband, can go from fully off to fully on in the mornings. OK, not a problem previously because by 8 am I have been capable of discussing plot points in StarGate, interesting things he's read in his Horrible Science comic or the unfathomable mystery of girls and their hair or whatever is currently at the forefront of his brain.
Only now younger son is also up at 7 am, even more active than usual because it's his first week at Big School and he has new teachers and new lessons and new routine and oh, so much else that he wants to tell me about and compare notes with his brother about.
While senior son and I are both still waking up and what brain function we have as yet is fully occupied with complicated thought processes like - Pour Cereal in Bowl. Add Milk. Where Milk? Open Fridge. Find Milk. Try to Shut Fridge. Get Cat's Nosey Nose out of Fridge. Shut Fridge. Pour Milk in Bowl. Sit at Table. Push Milk-seeking Cat off Table. Eat Cereal.
This is going to take some getting used to, I can tell.