The Datada Effect

"He was a big stocky fella with short legs"

When Everyday Eavesdropper (EE) dumped his car a few years ago it was supposedly all about getting fit, saving money and preventing global warming. He hadn't, though, counted on the excitement of public transport.

Let's define our terms. When I say 'public transport' I really mean trains and buses and the underground. 'Public', of course, referring to that lovely old fashioned idea that this is transport provided for the public out of the public purse. In the UK this changed with privatisation and de-regulation in the early 1990s, although in reality a large chunk of the public purse still subsidises the sector and Railtrack (the bit that owned the tracks and signals and things) was brought back into state ownership as Network Rail in 2002. I digress.

For me, public transport means being transported together with the rest of the population in a shared space, as opposed to a mostly private space like a car. I hasten to add that EE had used public transport prior to dumping his car (and let's not forget those three months as a bus conductor), it's just that it brought a new attention to the delight of catching snippets of other peoples' lives.

Travelling on trains was the original inspiration for this blog - particularly the bizarre one-sided conversations you hear from people talking into their mobile phones: "I'm just arriving at the station now" or "... you know how some families have these big rows? They were having one of those rows about what was he doing with his life ..." This latter conversation happened somewhere between Peterborough and Leicester a couple of months ago. I say, 'somewhere between Peterborough and Leicester', though I actually mean 'the entire journey between Peterborough and Leicester'. For anyone who doesn't know this part of the UK network, it takes about an hour, and I personally think an hour is a long time to be on a mobile phone ... but I am a boy.

So, you can imagine EE's excitement last week over the prospect of a whole three hour trip to Birmingham and back. What delights there were bound to be.

Nothing.

Well, not much.

There was the story of an interview which promised much but didn't really live up to expectations - although EE gathered there was a group test involved. Then on the way back there were four students who looked like they had good potential but spoke to quietly, thus contravening one of the key Datada Principles. No, it looked like six hours on the train with no interesting eavesdropping to be done.

Stamford is a beautiful town in South Lincolnshire. I suppose the sort of place that people around the world might think of as a typical English town. The exterior of Stamford Arts Centre was used in the recent Pride and Prejudice film starring Keira Knightly and the bloke from Spooks for example.

Anyway, the train passes through there on the way from Birmingham to Cambridge.

"Do you mind if I sit down here?"
"No, I love a good gossip"

Bingo!

Two women had alighted at Stamford and sat down behind EE. They evidently knew each other, but not well - passing acquaintances you might say and were probably in their 50s.

Gossip, or indeed dialogue in general, implies an exchange, but this was one of those conversations in which one person talked and the other listened - the occasional 'ooh' and 'oh yes that is a problem isn't it' being proferred as occasional encouragement. On hearing the tale, though, EE could understand why the talker might want to 'unload' on an acquaintance's shoulder. There was the mother with alzheimer's who used to be a teacher and had had such a sharp brain and the husband who has to have all his food laid out before she can leave to look after her mother because 'he doesn't even know where the bread is'. Then there were the children, all prospering in London, apparently, including one 'who doesn't really have a girlfriend' and 'always has his nose in a book' but is also 'very popular' (though it wasn't clear with whom).

This sounded like plenty to cope with, but there was more.

"I had to time the painkillers so that they took effect when we went for a walk. He was lovely - a big stocky fella with short legs."

EE's head was beginning to fill with visions of a rotund John Bull kind of chap - perhaps her father?

"Do you know, I've still got his bed made up in the corner in the kitchen? Silly isn't it?"

This was beginning to sound tragic. It was obvious that the big stocky fella was no longer with us.

"It's heartbreak when they go. Mind you, he was 15 - he'd done well."

You probably guessed what they were talking about straight away, but it took EE a while to cotton on and meanwhile his thoughts had gone down many avenues - trying to imagine the detail which was missing from the story.

This again is a good example of the Datada Effect.

'What is the datada effect?' is a question which was asked of EE last week.

For this blog was the subject of at least a minute or so's discussion last Friday lunchtime. A wonderful regular outing, a little but noisy group of people - colleagues and ex-colleagues - come together in The Salisbury (traditional English pub) in Cambridge each Friday lunch to be entertained by a Mr Parker of Landbeach. As well as entertainment, there is also plenty of opportunity for philosophy and naturally, the subject of the Datada Effect came up.

So, basically, the Datada Effect refers specifically to the case of not knowing exactly what people are talking about and having to add in (guess) the missing links. In the case of the train conversation, EE had evidently missed a key point about what/who they were talking about. I'm not sure how, because EE had been concentrating very hard.

... and why 'Datada'? That's also a very interesting story, but it will have to wait for another time.

There was more about how she had to look after a cat for Christmas and how a fifteen metre piece of string was used so that the cat could go down the garden and 'do its business' without getting lost, but unfortunately, before EE could hear the end of the story (and the full plan for new dogs), it was time for them to get off.