I’m going to keep this relatively short, since I rather doubt many people are back up to speed after the excesses of the past couple of weeks, and anyway will be struggling with the dreaded return to the maelstrom of angst that is the working week. I’ll expand on the theme soon, though.
I’m pretty much the most inconspicuous person I know. I can go the library, or a pub, or a café, and I sort of blend into the background. If I don’t announce my arrival, people can somehow not notice me, and get startled when I decide to speak.
It’s a bit odd really, since I’m no shortarse, and I have a relatively distinctive shaved head; one of my mates described me to his young daughter as ‘that tall bald bloke.’
It has its advantages, because it means I can eavesdrop mercilessly without getting caught out. Lots of my best fictional dialogue has been adapted from things I’ve earwigged. I even carry a notebook to record some of the gems. If something is good enough for Alan Bennett it’s good enough for me.
Sadly, it also has a major drawback. Because people tend not to notice me, I lack any real ‘bar presence’. This is that uncanny ability some people have of being able to get served first even when the pub is heaving.
I have been moved on occasion to say, ‘What? I’m invisible now, am I?’ Or words to that effect.