We decided to have a lazy Sunday this week. None of our dog minder options were available, so there was no trip into Stockholm. We were possibly going to drive somewhere but, when all was said and done, we stayed home.
That’s not exactly true for Mirinda. She went for a long forest walk. She was going to go for a swim in a lake but the temperature, following yesterday’s rain, had dipped a bit low.
There was a brief moment late in the day when we got rid of the recycling and went on to ICA to buy some ice cream. At ICA I noticed a couple of people who appeared to be completely unaware of the rest of the world.
A man outside was standing next to the bags of compost. I thought he was guarding them or something. As I approached from behind he had the attitude of someone on the phone. Except he wasn’t. He was just standing there.
I started to walk around him when, as if a switch had been flicked, he suddenly moved forward, heading for the automatic doors. I have rarely seen anyone approach a set of automatic doors quite as quickly as this chap. If they hadn’t opened, he’d have knocked himself out. He snatched up a shopping basket and started, almost, running around the aisles.
I took a shortcut through the crisp aisle and headed straight for the freezer cabinets where a woman was standing, right where I wanted to go, earnestly talking on her phone. It looked like she was asking someone which flavour ice cream they wanted.
I walked around the freezer cabinet, expecting her to either dive in and select something or walk away, but she did neither. In the UK, I would have just asked her to move but, it’s a bit tricky in a foreign country. Also, on closer examination, she looked to be having a particularly serious conversation. So serious, in fact, that it excluded the entire rest of the world.
I went back to the crisp aisle and grabbed some pork scratchings, assuming she’d move while I was gone. I returned and she hadn’t moved.
What should have been a very quick, in and out trip was turning into something quite the opposite. I decided to stand next to her, looking anxious.
The woman, still talking on the phone, didn’t appear to notice me (or anyone else in the shop) but, slowly, inexorably, started moving away from the freezer cabinet. I’d like to think it was the force of my thoughts that shifted her. Eventually she was clear enough for me to go in, grab the flavours I wanted and leave.
Back at the car, having explained what took me so long, we discussed the way some people cut themselves off from the rest of the world once they’re on the phone. It’s like the rest of the world disappears while they chat. This is an odd result of the mobile phone. Before they existed, people would remain aware of other people around them. Now, the reverse is true.
And lots of people do it. Watch how many people keep speaking on the phone while being served in a shop, completely ignoring the person at the cash register. I’m sure these people aren’t naturally rude, but with a phone in hand they become the rudest people around. In fact, it occurred to me that the collective noun for these people would be ‘a rudeness’. A rudeness of strangers seems very appropriate.
Having managed to get ice cream, we drove back to the house where Mirinda worked on the database I built her yesterday and I had a delightful read on the terrace.
I’d decided to make a Gazzarole (a casserole but made differently by me every time) for dinner tonight, so the house was filled with delicious smells all day as it cooked from 10:30 until 19:30. And it was delicious. If I do say so myself.
Something that made the day quite lovely was an email I received from Charles at FATN. He was passing on an email from one of our listeners to Nigel and me. It read:
Obviously, I’ll forgive her for spelling my name incorrectly. As I read it, I could hear Tony saying something like “We’re here to read the news, not to make people laugh!” But I don’t care. I was very pleased.
