Have you ever passed someone on the street and heard a fragment of a conversation and wondered what the whole thing was about? I have to admit I often while away the time in my journey from A to B via D, R and X re-creating a suitable story to go with whatever snippet has caught my attention.
Take this morning for instance, I had to wend my merry way to Chelsea to have some blood samples taken to find out if it is indeed true that I’m really Princess Diana’s illegitimate son, as it happens I won’t find out next week as when I got there there was notice up saying, “Due to staff sickness there will be no one available to take blood samples today” I’m not sure why I’m surprised, after all if you insist on shepherding in all the sick people to one small building you can’t be too surprised when they pass on whatever germaloids they have to the staff.
Anyway, I digress…as I was walking to the medical centre a hackney cab pulled up and 2 guys in their mid-twenties got out, they were dressed in the usual Sloaney attire of crumpled corduroy, tweed jacket and garish pullover. I heard one say to the other, “So, you still haven’t told me your name” the other looked sheepish and appeared to blush before saying, “Hugo” and then they were out of ear-shot.
Obviously my mind raced away with thoughts such as, what were 2 men who didn’t know each other doing sharing a cab? I mean how did they happen to both find themselves somewhere on Friday morning in need of a cab? Did they both eye each other up when a solitary cab cruised down the street before deciding, “Oh let’s help the environment and share!” Of course I was more inclined to think they had met in some sleazy nightclub the night before, a bucket of gin and tonic and a splash of champagne later and they were waking in a tussle of bedsheets thinking, “Shit! what’s his name?!”
Of course I’ll never know and it’s very likely the whole thing was innocent but let’s face it, innocent is pretty boring but if you see Hugo, please ask him for me ;)