Aren’t people fascinating? I love people watching. I do it all the time. I suppose people must do it with me too. I wonder what they think? I was in Glasgow yesterday for work. While on the train I had a phone conversation with a colleague during which I laughed like a hyena. I’m sure it was extremely annoying for the other folk in the carriage and I’m sure they wanted to grab my phone and beat me around the head with it (I’d have given them the death stare if they’d tried it - it’s my pride and joy and my LIFE is on it. I’d sell my children before I’d let somebody take my phone away. I think you get the sad picture).
So, yes where was I? Fascinating people. The people who fascinate me most are the ones who make me laugh. I love laughing. I love people who make me laugh. I’m more attracted to somebody who makes me laugh than somebody who is good looking and dull. (Except Brad Pitt, he can do no wrong in my book. Amen.) My pal Kate’s partner Stevie makes me laugh. It’s not so much what he says. It’s in his delivery. It’s because of the town from which he hails. It’s just full of funny people who say daft things. I won’t tell you where he comes from, or the whole town will be at my door with pitchforks baying for my blood. But these folk are natural comedians! He tells great TRUE stories about the citizens of his wee toon.
Like the woman whose husband’s glass eye fell into the sink and smashed to smithereens. She asked the doctor “Will he be awright tae drive doctor?”
Aaaah, it’s the way he tells ‘em.
A man says to his drinking buddy “Was it you or your brother that was killed in the war?” “Nah, it must’ve been ma brother, ah wasnae in the war”.
Haha!
Even the suicide attempts are funny! One poor man whose wife skipped off with the coal man decided to end it all with the old exhaust pipe into the car and a brick on the accelerator, but ran out of petrol. He then tried the “rope on tree” method but ended up with merely a broken ankle because the rope was too long. (Titter)
Or the numpty who decided to hold up the local launderette (I don’t know why either, maybe he needed coins for the meter?) and handed over a note with his demands on it on the back of a letter from the Dole office with his name, address and national insurance number.
I’ve been a constant source of amusement and probably fascination for my own daughters - and often, a terrible, crushing embarrassment. Like the time I took daughter number one to an album launch/signing in Glasgow and the nice boys from the band offered to let her have her picture taken with them. They also invited me in, and I got a bit carried away and did the bunny rabbit’s ears behind the lead singer’s head. (My toes are curling as I write that - and it happened about 10 years ago) This was bad enough, but unfortunately he had so much hairspray in his hair that my hand got a bit stuck and I took away a few hairs from his head with my hand. Everyone laughed. Except my daughter, who ran out wailing and ran all the way from Glasgow to Dumfries without stopping and refused to speak to me for weeks.
A bit closer to home, we used to live next door to a woman who had lost her job for dipping her fingers in the till. For some reason, instead of shouting “Hi!” or “Morning!” the next time I saw her, I shouted “How’re ye diddlin’!”. I NEVER SAY THAT. I’d never said it before, and I certainly haven’t said it since. Where did that come from?
If I had a penny for the number of times I’ve heard one of the weans exclaim exasperatedly “MUM!!!” I’d have a hell of a lot of pennies. One of my worst habits is to absentmindedly stare open mouthed at people in public. But I do just find people fascinating, so deal with it.
Apparently I’ve also started going “Oooooofff” and “Sheeeesh” when I come in the front door, as if I’ve just done a hard shift down the mines. (I haven’t. I can’t remember the last time I broke sweat through hard work to be honest. The most energetic thing I do is open the drawer where the crisps are kept). When did that start? Is it an age thing? Either way, it makes the weans laugh like proverbial drains.
So if you see me on a train, and I stare at you slack jawed, it’s just because you look fascinating. Just shout “MUM!” at me and I’ll snap out of it. Maybe.
Lindsey Mason writes in a personal capacity. Her views are not necessarily those of STV plc.
