One of the side effects of coming back from traveling is that you will talk to anyone. Anyone at all. You have spent months on end in the company of no one that you know, and are now quite happy to converse with other travelers, bus attendants, beggars, drunks, and any other random people you happen across.


This is probably why, when Dave staggered up to me shortly after I got back, and announced "People keep being orrible to me today", instead of moving away, I asked him if he was having a bad day.

This encounter took place on a bench, on the platform of a train station in Forest Hill, South London.

To be fair Dave was more than a little unsteady on his feet. He had that rouge blushed effect that goes with all the best alcoholics, wild eyes, a shock of ginger hair, and was about six foot.

He looked pretty much like your average unemployed, dressed in non descript black jeans, and something like a bomber jacket. He looked about 38 to me, pocked skin that had suffered the ravishes of his lifestyle. Although he swore blind he was only 22!

He was with out a doubt, completely out of his face on something, if not several things.

As he stumbled along the platform people took evasive action, glancing away before they met his eyes and hiding their faces in their newspapers. He came to sit on the bench next to me, and "bad arse young man" at the other end.

He wasn't very happy.

If I was Dave I wouldn't be very happy either. It can't be nice being shunned by the general public so blatantly. I think that's how he came to the conclusion people were being " 'orrible" to him. Bless. The thing is, it crossed my mind in my wisdom, that if people are only ever 'orrible to you. You are unlikely to be anything other than 'orrible back.

Anyway, me and Dave had a bit of a chat, he wasn't actually doing any harm, just muttering a bit to himself in a slightly erratic manner.

I asked Dave where he was going... "I don't know..." said Dave.
 
I pointed out that as he was at a train station, and about to get on a train, he must, theoretically, have some idea where he was going.

This got a laugh. He was going to see a girl. He thought she liked him, but he wasn't quite sure. He also wasn't quite sure where she lived. At a guess I would say it was somewhere north of Forest Hill.

He really was quite sweet in some ways, was Dave. Battered by life, but I'm sure there was quite a lot of good still rattling around in there somewhere. I got the feeling I might have been the only normal person he had spoken to in some time. i.e the only person who was operating in the same reality as 90% of the world, not one entirely soaked in and addled by drugs. 

Dave then decided that he liked me. I wasn't terribly surprised. If you talk to odd people you have to expect them to act in slightly odd ways.

Dave had a bit of a set to with "bad arse young man" while we were waiting for the train, but I managed to calm him down.

When the train arrived Dave had started to get a bit to close for comfort. I liked Dave, but I didn't think we'd be keeping in touch. When the train arrived I realised that I might have a bit of a problem. So I tried to walk into the carriage the opposite way to Dave and took a seat next to two extremely large Eastern European guys.

I can't remember the precise ins and outs, but I had hoped Dave might just not follow me. Of course he did follow me.

The two Eastern European guys didn't really share my ethos of being nice the socially down pressed, and after about two lines more conversation, during which Dave didn't seem to pleased with me, looked at Dave quite clearly and told him, in no uncertain terms "You.  Vuk Ofv".

Dave was not to be put off of course, so this soon escalated to, "Vuk Ofv, or I killl you."


Figuring I had kind of got Dave into this situation and not wanting him killed, I took him further down the carriage to sit with me. He carried on acting like a complete loony. He did a remarkably loud impression of someones baby that was screaming, and I had to calm him down again. I then decided it really was time for me and Dave to part company and employed my classic London strategy for avoidance of loonies on the train/tube. 

I waited until the train pulled on to the station, waited for the doors to open, suddenly jumped off the train at light speed, ran down two carriages, jumped on, and hid. In the crowd I cannoned past the two Eastern European guys and said thank you to them as I sped by.

After the train doors closed again and the train pulled out of the station, I saw Dave out the window, he had got off the train.  I think he was a bit confused about where I had gone. He wandered off up the platform and up the steps. Hopefully without bumping into the Eastern European guys.

So although I am still that strange variety of Londoner, that will talk to people I meet while I'm out in the outside world, you will still find that most Londoners, when on the train/tube/street, will talk to no one. Preferring instead to stare steadfastdley into space, in complete and utter silence. 

And I do have to admit, that in some cases, there's a reason for that!