On Tuesday night we stayed in the bar until the last possible opportunity. I commented to Jimmy that Sod's Law dictates that if I arrive early to the auditorium I have an aisle seat; if I'm late, I am in the middle of the row. Guess what - middle of the row. My first thought was - oh no, I'm next to a large person.
Not extraordinarily large, but big frame more than amply filled with excess flesh. I had only spent thirty or so seconds faffing when I detected a distinct and proximate odour of body.
The Crickets came on stage and Sonny Curtis struck a chord, part warm-up, part check the guitar is plugged in, part, perhaps, unconscious pre-performance ritual. The people in the row behind were just finishing their conversation so the man next to me, who shall henceforth be known as Smelly Man, went "Sherrup". Effective, I thought.
He was the sort who cheered the opening bar of each song, and as the rest of the Albert Hall applauded, he was the one shouting "Howay that man". Only, not loudly. My feeling is that if you're going to shout out your appreciation of a performance you might as well project.
He didn't seem that enthused about Nanci coming on stage, and indeed, he got fidgety during the second half. But even before the second half began, I had decided he was well creepy. As we made our way back to our seats, I did the 'excuse me, thank you' routine, and he said 'No Sweat'. Pleasant enough, but, unfortunate in the circumstances. Let's just say that I had to suppress my giggles.
I had a further route through my bag- I had just stuffed my purse and change in at the bar, my camera was lurking precariously, and I was on a search for my binoculars. Loudly, Smelly Man commented to his neighbour "She has glasses just like you." I wasn't sure whether he meant my spectacles or binoculars; I thought it slightly ill-mannered. Not that it annoyed me. Jimmy said that the man was staring intently into my bag as I rootled. Possibly he doesn't have ready access to women's handbags and was hoping to get a cheap thrill at the sight of condoms or tampons or something.
The guy fidgeted all through the second half. This fidgeting included absent-minded arhythmic key rattling, and moving repeatedly in his seat. I had already arranged myself so I was touching legs with Jimmy, rather than have Smelly Man impose his leg onto mine - in fairness, not entirely avoidably. Unfortunately, the fidgeting led to a barely perceptible movement of air. I say barely, but it was sufficient to cause a renewal of Fragrance de Corps every few moments.
He didn't really approve of what Nanci was saying - I don't think he especially liked the music, either. When she introduced a song by saying "This is about, how if you just open your heart up to it, you can find love - Love Conquers Everything" he said "Oh shit" in a really derogatory manner. I felt that he probably didn't have a clue what she was talking about - although, as I commented to Jimmy, "If you just take a bath, you too can find love." I wondered whether he lived with his mother.
I seem to have so many encounters with people who don't know how to behave. I wonder is it:
a) there is a conspiracy between all of London's venues to annoy me
b) I just have bad luck; or
c) there is too high a proportion of people who are simply unaware of how to behave in public
