Smile and Wave
Let me begin with an anecdote. I was putting out the recycling for collection on Sunday afternoon, when a passing car slowed down. The driver then honked the horn and gave me a cheery wave. Being culturally conditioned to be polite, I smiled and waved back. The vehicle then continued on its way and I went back inside my home pondering who the hell it was who had just greeted me in such a friendly fashion. Several days later I still have no idea. This is not the first time such a thing has happened. In fact it’s a fairly regular occurrence. I was going to my local doctor's surgery recently when a lady in her late twenties hailed me and engaged me in conversation. I managed to bluff my way through our exchange and she departed in the same good humour that she began with. To this day I have no clear idea as to her identity or how she knew me. My theory is that she may have been one of my late father’s carers. But I cannot be sure.
“Smile and wave, boys, Smile and wave”
Let me begin with an anecdote. I was putting out the recycling for collection on Sunday afternoon, when a passing car slowed down. The driver then honked the horn and gave me a cheery wave. Being culturally conditioned to be polite, I smiled and waved back. The vehicle then continued on its way and I went back inside my home pondering who the hell it was who had just greeted me in such a friendly fashion. Several days later I still have no idea. This is not the first time such a thing has happened. In fact it’s a fairly regular occurrence. I was going to my local doctor's surgery recently when a lady in her late twenties hailed me and engaged me in conversation. I managed to bluff my way through our exchange and she departed in the same good humour that she began with. To this day I have no clear idea as to her identity or how she knew me. My theory is that she may have been one of my late father’s carers. But I cannot be sure.
I pride myself on being quite an observant person. I notice things. For example, if the grandchildren have messed with anything on my desk, I can tell immediately. My office window looks out onto the street so I tend to notice any changes or things that are out of the ordinary. I also have a good memory for faces. Names I tend to forget, but I am pretty good with faces. So I find it somewhat contradictory when I encounter people who appear to know me and I have absolutely no idea who they are. It is not as if I am oblivious to the people who live in my street. I am on good terms with both neighbours and the people close by. Yet this odd situation persists. I was going to the fish and chip shop a few months ago and a guy of a similar age to myself asked me how I was and talked about how he was having a new kitchen fitted. I managed to move him along politely by saying “don’t let your food get cold”, so he cordially wished me the best and withdrew. Again, who was he?
Maybe I look like someone else in the area and I’m continuously being mistaken for another person. It’s not as if there’s a shortage of overweight, white, middle aged blokes round here. However, I think this is unlikely as I’ve spent a large amount of my life living in this borough. I think I’d know if I had some sort of doppelgänger. Mrs P has a less flattering theory which I must admit, does seem to have some legs. Whenever we’re out and about, she will often start conversations with those passing by. She knows a lot more of the people in the area than me and will often reference them. “I spoke to Velma today. She’s not going to Sorrento this year as she doesn’t want to leave Barnaby alone”. I will then look flummoxed which will elicit a rolling of the eyes from Mrs P and a complex explanation about Velma being the one who lives 5 doors away who had a cyst on her ovary. Barnaby apparently is a highly strung Persian Blue. Allegedly this is data that I should know but for some reason I haven’t retained it.
Barnaby (not really, this is a stock photo)
I suspect that this may be a contributory factor to this phenomena that occasionally blights my life. I am not rude by default, having been raised to be polite or at least civil in everyday social situations. However, I am someone who is very much wrapped up in my own thoughts a lot of the time. I’m not a great one for small talk. If I may quote the 1970 film Scrooge, “it's enough for a man to understand his own business, and not to interfere with other people's. Mine occupies me constantly”. I’m a bit like that. During a lull in any conversation I will retreat into my own thoughts. For example, what shall I blog about today, where’s my Amazon order or what should I have in my sandwich? Hence, it’s hardly surprising that I am not paying full attention to the people that Mrs P is talking to. I guess the fact that I’m there makes people assume that I’m actually listening.
I suppose if that is the answer to this recurring issue, then I shall blame it on a degree of personal introversion. As I stated earlier I can be sociable and broadly speaking am so. But this is predominantly out of necessity. Being civil and polite makes navigating life’s social complexities a lot easier. During lockdown, there was a guy who would regularly talk to me whenever I went to the pharmacy. He was hardly a raconteur but it was courteous to engage with him. Who knows, perhaps the brief exchange was an important part of his day. You never really know someone’s personal situation. But I don’t actively seek out such social interaction, preferring my own company by default. Hence I may be the architect of these mysterious encounters and if I’d paid more attention I’d know who they were. But I really don’t see myself changing. Hence, I suspect more of these occurrences will happen in the future. And my solution is to just “smile and wave, boys. Smile and wave”.
"Good Company"
I have been ruminating upon this writing this post for a long time. One of the reasons I’ve deferred it many times, is that it’s extremely personal and I have strong views on putting such information in the public domain. Another reason is that there is scope for what I’m going to express to be wilfully misconstrued. What I hope to explore is a legitimate point and ongoing aspect of my life. But if it’s not framed in an appropriate manner, it may well come off as snobbish and judgemental. So I shall try to be as succinct as possible. Since 2016, I have been a full-time carer for both my disabled parents. I know longer work in the traditional sense. Therefore, I no longer experience the social dynamic of the work environment. For better or ill, work does offer interaction with others and scope for wider social activities. I now experience a different variation of these. I speak and make small talk with nurses and carers. I go to the shops and quip with the pharmacist along with the staff in the supermarket and newsagent. Due to the litany of doctors and hospital appointment I take my parents to, I spend a lot of time waiting and interacting with “older people”. People the same age as my parents. IE forty years my senior.
A metaphor for friendship and good company
I have been ruminating upon this writing this post for a long time. One of the reasons I’ve deferred it many times, is that it’s extremely personal and I have strong views on putting such information in the public domain. Another reason is that there is scope for what I’m going to express to be wilfully misconstrued. What I hope to explore is a legitimate point and ongoing aspect of my life. But if it’s not framed in an appropriate manner, it may well come off as snobbish and judgemental. So I shall try to be as succinct as possible. Since 2016, I have been a full-time carer for both my disabled parents. I know longer work in the traditional sense. Therefore, I no longer experience the social dynamic of the work environment. For better or ill, work does offer interaction with others and scope for wider social activities. I now experience a different variation of these. I speak and make small talk with nurses and carers. I go to the shops and quip with the pharmacist along with the staff in the supermarket and newsagent. Due to the litany of doctors and hospital appointment I take my parents to, I spend a lot of time waiting and interacting with “older people”. People the same age as my parents. IE forty years my senior.
I make no claim to be “lonely” in the classic sense of the phrase. I live with Mrs P and we have a good relationship and do things toegether. But by not having a traditional work life, I am not mixing with people of a comparable age, nor am I spending time with those from the same academic discipline. I don’t miss the bullshit that is endemic to office politics but I do miss the company of likeminded people, as well as the problem solving that goes hand in hand with complex network infrastructure. I no longer speak with other about the news, science, philosophy or even fandom. I just make superficial small talk with strangers. Chat about the weather or the state of the bus service. I also nod politely but say nothing when someone decides to share their ill-conceived opinion on the latest contentious political issue. Plus I have to endure the cultural entrenched prejudices of the older generations. Something I find particularly unpleasant.
[Insert punchline about entrenched racism here]
I have a small circle of good friends, people I’ve known since college. But they’ve moved, had families and have done all the regular stuff that people do and as a result, we only see each other about three or four times a year. I don’t begrudge this in anyway. It’s all part of life’s rich pageant. So to address this social and what I would define as an “intellectual engagement” gap, I listen to a lot of podcasts and YouTube videos. Digesting the thoughts and musings of Richard Dawkin, Robin Ince, Brian Cox and Mary Beard is great for stimulating the grey matter. I also like to know the back story behind the current news and social talking points. I don’t mean lazy partisan arguments and simply taking a side. I like to understand the complexities that so often underpin all major debates. It’s an unfashionable position but that’s how I’m programmed. But although all these things can provide a great deal of mental stimulation, there can also be a downside. Pondering weighty matters makes me less disposed towards the mundane.
Now I have no intention of abandoning small talk and light weight social interactions as I go about my daily business. Courtesy is hardwired into my personality. Plus some of the old people I share a word with, may not have a great deal of contact with other people and I think it’s important to reflect upon this. It’s an utter cliché but it is still true that a “kind word goes a long way”. However, if I find myself circulating among guests at a family gathering it is often a struggle to find any robust conversation. Some people like to keep it simple because they know certain hot topics are contentious. Others, often those who are the least informed, seem to be the most confident and willing to share their “perspective”. Hence such social occasions are often a chore for me and I tend to avoid them unless I know specific people will be there, with whom I’ve had positive engagement in the past.
This man is clearly an expert
Without getting too much into “armchair expert” territory, let’s embrace a couple of broad universal truths. People are tribal by nature and usually seek company of those who are broadly similar to themselves. That’s not to say that we don’t sometimes have friends who are radically different than ourselves but usually there is a kind of social and intellectual parity within our peer group. To be removed from such a social mechanic is frustrating. As I stated initially, I don’t feel lonely. However, I do feel at times unengaged and like I’m stagnating. That I’m not testing my mettle or using my brain enough. I miss the company of those who can cogently challenge my viewpoint or make me laugh with a well-conceived joke or quip. There’s a Sherlock Holmes quote that springs to mind. I hasten to add I do not consider myself to be in anyway like the great detective but the point made is a good analogy. “My mind is like a racing engine, tearing itself to pieces because it is not connected up with the work for which it was built”. As to what the solution is to this problem, I’m not sure. I believe I have to make things happen and go and seek out some mental stimulation. Exactly what that will involve I cannot say at present. In the meantime, I shall continue to look to my online friendships to fill this gap.