The art of conversation

I was waiting for my mother outside the by-now notorious Ladies’ Powder Room at Beatties (see earlier post here) when an elderly lady started to tell me about the advantages of the disabled toilet near customer services. She explained that her husband was blind and preferred to be accompanied before his death, but obviously didn’t need to be accompanied now, which was a blessing. This was followed by a long story involving the lady’s arthritic mother and a wonky portakabin loo in Huddersfield. Finally, she confessed that she’d said the word ‘shit’ earlier that day when her shopping trolley got caught in the revolving door by Costa and hoped nobody had heard her, though she was perfectly happy to repeat it to me.

None of this would have happened if I hadn’t been sitting beside an empty wheel chair.

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