So I wander into Subway to get myself a sandwich. The chubby young girl behind the counter starts getting very excited because a tune comes on the radio she recognises. They're listening to 'Radio Galaxy FM' and, to me, the tune in question is indistinguishable from whatever sh#t they were playing before it*. However, to her, it's a call to arms and it makes her start sort of awkwardly dancing.
"Yeah! I love this one," she exclaims to no one in particular. "Ah! Cheryl Cole, she's amazin' I saw her on telly last night an' she looked proper mint. I love that she's stayed with Ashley, she's stuck by him she has, hasn't she? I think she's ace, what do you reckon?"
Oh f#ck! I'd been busy listening to her celebrity culture bullsh#t in smug horror and now I realise she's talking to me! What a cheek, to presume that I even know who Cheryl Cole is, let alone that I have an opinion on her. I'm clever and stuff. I've got a degree, somewhere. I need to think of something witty to say to redress the balance;
"Yeah, um, it's good innit?"
What? I didn't even mean to say that. I feel confused and leave with my big sandwich. I don't understand what just happened. I do of course know who Cheryl Cole is. I should have communicated with the girl, she was only being friendly.
As I walk home I think to myself about what just happened and decide it's time to start writing the blog again.
*It has always seemed odd to me that in dance music it's actually seen as a good thing that the tunes all sound the same. "Woo hoo - a seamless mix there! Bet you didn't even notice I'd changed the tune did you?" an overenthusisatic mate of mine might brag as he demonstrated his mixing skills. How is it good that it all follows the same dull syncopated beat?