I'm reminded of that Monty Python sketch of the business man in a bowler hat on his way home from work. All around him there are fights and robberies and explosions and people with no clothes on (or something like that). When he gets in, his wife is having an affair and all the time he seems completely oblivious to the excitement all around. Finally, he settles down and daringly puts the television on for some entertainment.
There's something about it that rings true. After one of the less interesting evenings of televisualar entertainment I've seen recently it occurs to me that we have become blind to the drama around us in favour of a tv version - wooo the Everyday Eavesdropper gets serious. Actually, it's a philosophy often been put forward about film. The 'Pervert's Guide to Cinema' which has been doing the rounds of arts cinemas argues that what film does is give us the experience of danger, fear, desire etc without us having to become involved. There is just the right amount of distance.
Back in October 2006 EE was in Norwich, a city of 150,000 inhabitants in the East of England. Arriving early for a training afternoon on the secrets of European funding in the arts he found himself in a coffee shop just inside the city centre. It must have been designed for people drinking on their own because around the edge is a high ledge and stools to go with it, so that people are looking outwards. If we were by the seaside, we could be looking out to sea at ships on the horizon, but we're not.
There are three tables within the coffee shop as well, for people who want to stare inwards or at the staff. At one of these was our romantic hero. Although EE is of course listening out for snippets of information all the time he wasn't actually tuned in to this conversation between our romantic hero and the waitress until our hero said '.. you know I've been coming in here for some time .. and it's not just for the coffee.'
EE, still facing away from the action, had no choice but to listen.
'Well, it's because I'm a secret admirer of yours and I was wondering if you would like to go out with me?'
Wahay - a public declaration of love in a coffee shop in Norwich.
The waitress, obviously taken aback: 'oh .. no .. I'm sorry .. I already have a boyfriend.'
Romantic Hero: 'oh .. well .. if you don't ask you don't get' in an embarassed sing-songy tone.
Waitress, recovering her composure: 'well, I'm very flattered of course .. but I don't think my boyfriend would be too pleased.'
The romantic hero must have been choosing his moment for weeks, perhaps months. I wonder if he was ever to return.
Afterwards, EE enjoyed hearing the story being retold for the benefit of her waiting colleagues. She made a really interesting point as they all picked it over, saying that if it had been the other way round - if she had been a customer asking a waiter - she wouldn't have chosen a time when he was working in his formal professional serving role to ask him this question. The customer/server relationship is very particular (and implies a power relationship I think is what she was saying). Of course, that may be why he had been attracted to her in the first place.
