Worth their weight in gold…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s carefully selected colours are: bullish black, scatterbrain scarlet, moping mauve, pungent pink, grunting green and vulgar vermilion.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Yes, when on a day out in the more upmarket city of Leeds, about 60 miles west of Dulltown, I usually hang about there for a while around tea-time (tea-time – 4.30 to 6.30-ish, for my non-UK readers) as the trains back at that time are inevitably packed with shoulder-to-shoulder standing sad-eyed commuters coming home from Manchester and all points west – usually they all seem to get off half way to Dulltown at Selby. Now that is a puzzle, but I digress…
Anyway, I went to Leeds a week or two ago and, with this train situation in mind, I made it a leisurely ‘two cafe day’ and caught the 19.39 back home.
I got on and fairly quickly came across an empty double seat and made myself comfortable as the train slid smoothly off, the window treating us to a moving slide show of track-side urban muck, and the generally unseen arse-ends of posh buildings.
Things were going well… except… oh… look… through the gap between the seats in front of me, I could see an open can of strong lager (Stella Artois), sitting on the little fold-down shelf; it obviously belonged to the person sitting in front of me. This didn’t bode well – people who resort to strong lager on trains are usually, shall we say, ‘outgoing’, ‘voluble’, and are often ‘gregarious’ souls. My fears were well founded.
I saw, through my cranny, a lady’s tanned hand with long blood-red polished nails reach out and grab at the can, and after a swig was presumably taken it was then slammed back on its perch. Soon after, a phone conversation was set in train (‘set in train’, ho-ho!) The half to which I was privy, was a good-natured gossipy monologue with occasional uproarious shrieks and squeals of high-pitched and completely unrestrained laughter.
Happily the phone call was fairly short, but the lady, let’s call her ‘Stella’ (after her beverage), then decided to engage a chap, sitting opposite her at the other side of the carriage, in some amusing banter. He seemed quite amenable to this and they started shouting back and forth enthusiastically. Stella was obviously taken with this fellow’s witty responses and showed her approval with her now trade-mark shrieking.
If I was a bit more outgoing myself, and not so ‘British’, I might have leaned forward and said through the gap in the seats, ‘Excuse me. Hey! Why don’t you go and sit with that chap, instead of all this loud bloody shouting and squealing and carrying on!’, but of course I didn’t. What I did was, I pulled back the velcro-ed flap of my shoulder bag, took out my Colt .45 handgun, cocked it and… No, no, not really – good job we don’t have guns here in the UK isn’t it?…
No, I took out my trusty MP3 player and my ‘noise cancelling’ headphones. I pressed ‘play’, switched the noise cancelling on, and… Oh joy!… The deep rumble of the train wheels and roaring engines disappeared altogether, and the voices of my flirting travelling companions – well, they didn’t completely disappear, but they receded as if they were much much further away – nothing would have cut them out completely – maybe a one-foot thick personalised polystyrene hood over my head might have done the job – but from there on for me it was ‘random play’: The Velvet Underground, Beck, J S Bach harpsichord, Otis Rush, Operator Please, Mohammed El-Bakkar, Japanese Court music; oh look, Selby station going past; Captain Beefheart, 1990s Rave Music… Ah, noise cancelling headphones – they are worth their weight in gold…
PS: And, for the ones amongst you who do like a bit of gossip, they did get off the train together…
(Click for jolly music!)

About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
This entry was posted in brain, colours, conversation, drama, existentialism, Grumpiness, humour, information, music, overheard, people, serendipity and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

12 Responses to Worth their weight in gold…

  1. ktz2 says:

    hahah . . I love your easy, droll wit.
    Also love Bach on the harpsichord– for me it’s a shining light of glorious beauty in this life

    • Dave Whatt says:

      Oh, I’m not a great one for classical music, but JSB on the harpsichord is fantastic! – I really don’t like it it when they do it it on piano – it always seems ‘watered down’ and too ‘pretty’ for me…
      Thank you for your encouragement Kate!

  2. Jheron Bash says:

    I hope they both live happily ever after. But probably won’t ….

  3. Jheron Bash says:

    Well, let’s hope so …

  4. Dana Doran says:

    Somewhere in the last few months I read an historical account of the Japanese during WII that explained the plans to invade the continental United States were dashed BECAUSE citizens can be armed….of course, we don’t all have a gun (many have more than one.) But, because it was a well known fact that we could be armed ….. Now, the temptation to shoot someone with an annoying cackle never comes to mind….although I have imagined myself taking aim at the television….I’ve never had even the slightest impetus to pull mine out of its place…..but it’s there, safe and warm, my dear little Baretta.

  5. Ooooh! Selby! Childhood home. I lived at 100 Leeds Road, as a tiny child. A huge red brick 3 bedroom house, with a garden front and back. I just checked it on Google Street view, and it still looks more or less the same (albeit smaller, with the adult perspective). I used to cross the field at the back of the house to go feed the ducks on the river. Wouldn’t get 4 years olds doing that by themselves today, haha!

    • Dave Whatt says:

      Well well, a Selby childhood – good job I wasn’t too rude about the place – it is a bit strange though isn’t it? Have you ever been back?

      • No….I got the chance when we went to Leeds and York, but places change and feel different when you are an adult, and I didn’t want to infringe on the memories. Does that make sense? Even seeing it on Google made me feel a bit weird 😀

      • Dave Whatt says:

        Yes, that makes perfect sense Scribbler.
        It was a nice picture of the town with the Abbey in the centre wasn’t it? Even as a devout atheist I still love old churches and cathedrals.

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