There is something to be said for anonymity of middle-aged frumpiness. You are totally invisible to the world and can enjoy the best eavesdropping opportunities while fading into the wallpaper. Last week at breakfast, armed with a magazine and flat white, I caught the conversation from the table 5cm away. (Those inner city places love to pack em in.) A word of warning. If you are going to eat breakfast in public and declare that someone is dumb, it will probably reflect back off those groovy mirrored walls that adorn the very groovy eatery you have chosen to breakfast at and hit you right in the face. I sided with every person subsequently slagged off and was left to consider the idiosyncratic nature of someone who will only drink Pepsi in a crystal glass every hour on the hour — a story I did not hear the end of. Which reminds me of another conversation that I didn't hear the end of. I went home and finished that conversation by writing a short story which subsequently became a 14 book series. There is something to be said for listening in...(and not getting caught).
