In the six years that I’ve been in my flat, I have spoken no more than a few words to my neighbour who lives upstairs. In the last two weeks, however, I have had two proper conversations with him. The first was when he came and asked if I had a bike pump he could borrow, and the second was when he just happened to be passing, and I just happened to be outside.
He knows the local area better than I do, and as I recently bought a bike, I am keen to learn about all the paths and off road tracks in the locality, so that is what I tried to talk to him about. All he seemed to want to talk about was the medication he was on for his mental problems and his previous suicide attempts. I will probably try to avoid him in future if all he wants to do is talk about himself.
The trouble is some people just want to deliver a monologue to you, whereas I consider a “talk” to be an agreeable exchange of pleasantries. I’m not their friend nor am I a paid therapist who is obliged to listen to their uninteresting monologues.
I usually get random strangers in the street who tell me their life story but don’t let me butt in at any time!
I don’t mind if l have time but the worst was the woman stranger who was passing me whilst l was standing at a bus stop. Not satisfied with talking to me for the 10 minutes or so until my bus came, she decided to get on the bus with me for the 50 minute journey.
She never stopped and l was too polite to say, ‘Shut up, you’re boring and l don’t know these people you’re yapping on about’!
We got to my destination, she got off the bus, walked across the road and got on a bus back to where she’d come from!!