The House Husband

Yesterday in Farnham I was unfortunate enough to witness a Spanish horde. I guess I should qualify that statement a bit. I’m guessing the horde was Spanish. At first I thought it was Italian but on closer listening, it sounded Spanish. I apologise if I am wrong.

There’s a language school in Farnham and I can only assume they were attending classes there. There was about 40 of them in small packs wandering the town. And they were all tweenies – not quite teenagers, but not younger than 10.

The thing that struck me the most was how rude they all were. It was like everyone else just wasn’t there. To my knowledge I’ve only met a couple of Spanish people and so I can’t say whether it’s a cultural trait. I’m also not sure if it was an age thing, though, of course, children in packs can be quite surly and rude. But let me give a few examples.

The footpaths in Farnham are quite narrow and it’s an accepted fact that if you walk three abreast, you are going to have move if someone is coming in the opposite direction otherwise you either run into them or they are forced onto the road and a certain injury from the ever-present traffic. This did not bother the horde.

I was run into a couple of times simply because these kids refused to concede any part of the footpath. Naturally I was going to hold on to my small claim of ground and so, they ran into me. No apology, not even a glance, they just slid around me having crashed.

In Starbucks, a group of about eight girls ordered drinks then hung around the bar like so many pesky insects while an elderly couple waited for their orders. The barista delivered the elderly order and one of the kid’s drinks. The kid rushed forward, almost pushing the elderly couple out of her way and grabbed her drink.

The elderly lady was a bit peeved but in that polite English way, she just huffed and puffed a bit and probably moaned about them all the way home. The young girl just kept up her constant chatter to her friends. I should note that they were all pretty sullen and their hair and clothes were almost identical. To be honest, they all looked related.

As I left Starbucks, a group of boys arrived at the door. Because I was inside and they were between me and freedom, I naturally held the door open for them. A couple drifted through but one decided that half way in was a great place to stand and have a conversation. I was going to give him a good clip around the ear (metaphorically of course) when his mate pushed him through the doorway.

And then, finally, two of them were in Waitrose having a conversation in one of the aisles. A woman in a mobility scooter was trying to get to whatever product was behind them. They just kept talking, completely ignoring her.

Maybe they were all from some sort of boot camp institution for rude kids and they’d not learned anything yet. All very odd. It certainly made me think that the Spanish are really rude. Not a good ad for an entire society given that I extrapolate things to a massive degree.

And then, this morning, it struck me. They won the World Cup. Perhaps this explains their air of superiority. Damn them.

So, I was back to uni today. I have four essays due so I figured I’d get a lot of work done on the train. This reminds me of a story in the press not long ago. A politician claimed he had to travel first class because he couldn’t work in second. He managed to make it sound like he was putting himself in some better class than the other passengers by saying they weren’t ‘the same’ as him. Bad choice of words, clearly but a more than accurate sentiment. I can but dream of first class.

Firstly, the new trains do not lend themselves to giving enough room to work properly. I’ve mentioned before that they’re modelled on a very thin, very short German midget as opposed to a normal sized human being. This makes it difficult to type, one arm being wedged against the side of the carriage or one leg extended into the aisle – neither helpful.

Actually, having a Netbook helps a bit. The keyboard being 97% the size of a full sized machine means I can just rest my wrists on the base and my fingers can reach all the keys. I am still squeezed up against the wall of the carriage though. Not the most ergonomic of typing positions.

I guess one of the worst things is the annoying habits of other people. They plug in their earplugs, have their music (or whatever) WAY too loud then can’t hear themselves eating with their mouths open. This simply sends me totally insane. And jiggling legs. I like the way some ‘expert’ has given this a name, as if it legitimises it somehow. Restless Leg Syndrome. It’s a SYNDROME? No it’s not! It’s a HABIT! Personally, I just think it’s because they desperately want to annoy me. It’s times like this I’m glad I have a laptop so I can freely vent the vitriol which otherwise threatens to engulf me.

Do they not care about anyone else? Are they so egocentric they only have brains attuned to themselves? Whenever I listen to my iPod, I always check the amount of bleed from the earplugs because I don’t want to annoy anyone. Is this just me? I must admit, I also do it so I can still hear what’s going on around me. I live in fear of missing an emergency flood announcement because Frank Zappa is screeching in my head.

I know the train is so crowded that people want to surround themselves with their own little happy bubble of aloneness, but just a smidge of consideration for others would be nice. Just like the people in cars who think everyone wants to listen to the constant drivel they call music which might be ok except all you can hear is thwump, thwump, thwump. OK, I know it’s never going to happen but it’s nice to moan about it. After all, what else is a blog for?

It was clear I wasn’t going to get a lot of work done, so I wrote this entry instead. I hoped he’d read it as I typed but, sadly, he didn’t. I also hoped to catch a glimspe of his email address (he had his laptop opened in front of him) so I could send him a rude email but I couldn’t make it out.

And while I’m moaning about people without social skills…I’m also not keen on the people who have to yell into their phones. Surely there’s been enough comedy skits showing how ridiculous it is. Sometimes I feel like joining in the conversation, just for a laugh but fear they have little (or no) sense of humour. Actually, when I think about it, if they don’t get the comedy skits, they are not going to get anything. Probably a good idea NOT to join in, then.

Well, that managed to take me from Clapham Junction to Aldershot, and I felt a little bit better. Not that I managed much uni work, but it did deter me slightly from the slurping next to me.