Give Me Some Space

The magnificent Edinburgh Festival may be over for another year but the crowds in Scotland’s beautiful capital city are a constant feature. Which makes travelling on public transport in Auld Reekie an ideal subject for a rant.

Long gone are the days when you could sit on the top deck of a bus and gaze wistfully in peaceful tranquillity at the world go by. The world is a much smaller place than the one I grew up in as a child of the 1970s. Scotland is now a multi-cultural country and is a much better place for being so. Moreover, there is a trait which seems to bind all nations and cultures together - that symbol of 21^st century living, namely the mobile phone. Like the vast majority of the people of the western world, I have one (in the unlikely event of anyone from Orange reading this, can you please consider changing your policy of putting so many obstacles in front of customers who wish to upgrade their phones? I won’t bore you with the details but this is likely to be the subject of another rant in the very near future) but I suspect I’m not alone in thinking fondly of the time when we lived without them.

It seems no matter what nationality, language or culture people in Edinburgh are or have, the behaviour whilst using a mobile phone is the same. That is having a loud, intrusive ring tone, and speaking way too loud to the person on the other end. Local ned types tend to bawl ‘Hullo? Aye, ah’m oan the bus. Ah’m just oan ma way roond the now’ while well-dressed smartarses with laptops and handbags large enough to contain a week’s shopping for a family of four tend to spout office talk such as ‘Hey, it’s Anna, yeah, I’m just heading back to the office. Going forward, I need you to get that report finished by close of business tonight’ (going forward appears to be the new buzzwords in businesses these days, as if people feel the need to demonstrate they’re not going backwards)

Other nationalities have similar traits. It would seem the universal answering of the mobile phone is ‘Allo’ but people of Chinese, Asian and African descent all use the same behaviour as Europeans - no matter what language they use, they talk loudly with no respect for other people’s right to have a bit of peace and quiet.

And another thing - fat people. Or, to use another 21^st century buzzword - obese. Now it’s easy to pigeonhole obese people and believe they all eat far too much fatty fried food and are too lazy to cook nutritional meals and take physical exercise. And, being brutally honest, I probably fall into that category myself. Some people do have medical conditions and I understand that. However, no matter the reason for some people being the size they are, they have no excuse for thinking they have the right to take up two seats on the bus. I’ve been squeezed, squashed, crushed and nearly suffocated by fat obese people on the bus as well as having people whacking me with bags, rucksacks and dozens of carrier bags crammed full of frozen pizzas, chips and crisps. In the name of the wee man why the hell don’t some people look where they’re going. Going forward has responsibilities…

At least now I’m living in Leith, I have just a short walk to the Ocean Terminal shopping centre with no need for buses. However, the crowds there still hug their mobile phones, barge past without a thought for others and generally don’t look where they’re going. If some pedestrians drove their cars the same erratic way they walk in shopping centres there would be carnage on the roads. My mood during my last visit to Ocean Terminal last weekend wasn’t helped when I popped into Waterstone’s. While pleased to see my book Hearts Greatest Games on display the note underneath the book read ‘For the few Hearts fans in Leith’. Methinks their sales pitch could be improved…

I’m heading over to see my grandchildren later today on the interminable route that is Lothian Buses number 3. I’ll have the headphones of my Ipod lodged in my lugholes in an attempt to block out the ‘hullo, I’m on the bus’ in a dozen different languages. However, there’s bound to be Mr or Mrs Obesity waddle on to the bus with twenty carrier bags from Farmfoods. And, inevitably, they’ll sit next to me.

I may be gone some time…

The Joy of Text (Part 94)

The news that Ryanair is leading the way in developing a system where passengers can use their mobile telephones while travelling at 35,000 feet fills me - and, I suspect many others - with despair. As someone who chooses to use public transport, I choose to plug in my headphones and escape to the sounds of my IPod whenever mobile phones inevitably go off on buses and trains. Now, the one place where you can escape the curse of modern technology will soon be ringing - literally - to the sound of irritating ring tones and loud and quite often gormless conversations that intrude on one's privacy. I can see it now, as soon as the flight to a week in the sun hits the required altitude after take-off and the flashing 'you can unfasten your seatbelt' sign beeps, not only will there be the usual rush to the loo of those who have consumed more alcohol than it necessary in the airport departure lounge but dozens of ringtones will burst into action.

'Hullo? Hi, it's me. Aye, I'm on the plane' I should really put these words in block capitals as, in text speak, this means shouting. As many people tend to do whilst using their mobiles.

How did we cope all these years ago without mobile phones and the internet? I thought about this the other night whilst texting a very good friend. Being a man, texting about two topics at the same time meant I became disorientated at one point and completely misinterpreted a couple of text messages. At one point I thought I had offended my friend to the point where she was never going talk to me again, a frightening prospect. Thankfully she soon put me right and then asked the bleeding obvious - 'Why didn't you just call me?' She was quite right, of course. That's what phones were invented for - the art of conversing, an art which - in this age of internet, text, social networks, messaging services - seems to be dying.

My daughters will probably not get the point of this rant. At times it seems like I communicate with Laura only via her Bebo page and Michaela through texting. Michaela even text me from the bathroom a wee while ago asking me to put the kettle on. In an age where many mobile phone companies offer unlimited texts it seems many people prefer to press a few buttons on a keypad rather than make the effort to engage in face to face conversation.

I realise, dear reader, the irony of me putting my feelings into a blog. But I was going to visit my elder daughter later today and phoned to confirm she would be in. But she has her voicemail switched on...