Small talk

You know when you see a person in the street who you don’t really know, have never had a conversation with (really) and actually kind of just think they’re a bit of a knob? Well, that happened to me today.

I arose this morning fully expecting to pile on the hours in the library in one massive reading session. After applying to do a mystery shop by 8:30, my plan for the day had gone slightly askew. Instead of reading for five solid hours, I reckon I managed about one and a half today. Must do better tomorrow!

The problem is with my ‘job’ is that the benefits of doing uni work while on the go is evident when you’re stuck on a train for three hours to Morecambe. But, when the train only takes 25 minutes to get to Huddersfield – my destination of choice for the day – it’s hard to find the incentive a settle down with a book and get a good read in. The ipod was beckoning.

Anyway, I was walking down into Leeds to get the train when I saw someone in front of me who I just could not be arsed to talk to. It’s not that they weren’t necessarily a nice person, or that they were a knob; it was the fact that I couldn’t be bothered with the suffering of small talk.

Small talk is an arduous task that can ware down even the most patient of people. There’s a limit to the amount of times you can tell someone you’re tired, how you don’t like mornings, and how much fun last night was. So to save me the hassle, I walked slowly down to the station, making sure this person (a guy off my course) didn’t turn round.

My run around Huddersfield was fairly unremarkable to be honest. It snowed, which made me wonder if February could just hurry up and get out of the way. I love spring, it’s just you have to get through shitty February for it to even be close.