Have you ever suddenly found yourself realising that what you thought moments before was a doting audience hanging upon every word that dropped from your lips was actually a mindless zombie who had adopted an expression of a smiling stunned mullet?
I bet you have!
I unfortunately seem to be encountering these people more and more regularly in my day to day interactions.
Here I am, ready to share the most fascinating stories about my favorite topics, France and Antiques, and for some undefinable reason, people I share my scintillating tales with either develop strange fixed smiles half way through my recitations or suddenly remember that they have to polish the cat or blowtorch their topiary and run away.
How can these people not be fascinated by my detailed descriptions of how you can see the cannon ball embedded in the wall of the Hotel de Sens after a blow by blow account of the journey through the Marais with historical asides about the last vestiges of the city wall, or the pleasure I felt attempting to trace the now invisible Bievre through the streets of Paris with extra information about the tapestry industry at Les Goblelins thrown in for good measure?
Just this weekend after I had unearthed a spectacular find of a number of 18th century porcelain blue and white tea bowls I was astonished to find that, after telling a person who I thought to be someone of taste and discernment about the various reasons why I had to come to the decision that they were possibly not Chinese but undoubtedly early Lowestoft that all they could say was “How nice” and claimed they desparately needed the toilet. That they dashed away in the opposite direction of the watercloset either revealed a disturbing urge to urinate in public or, dare I say, Horror! THEY FOUND MY STORY BORING!
And yet here I sit, alone in the dark, wondering if anyone has reached this far and beginning to wonder?
Are my perles faux?