I’m a somebody, please talk to me

It’s amazing how an inanimate object can make you completely approachable to strangers. Sometimes this is a good thing, sometimes bad. It’s a bit like wearing a T-shirt that says “I’m somebody. Feel free to talk to me”.

Normally that inanimate object is my cello. Ever since weekly train journey’s from Cambridge to Bury St Edmunds, travelling with a cello has made me never short of conversation. Normally I’d hear somebody’s tale of a distant relative who used to play the tin whistle, or how they wish they’d never given up on the violin when they were younger. Sometimes I’d get, “Oh you must know so-and-so from Aberdeen, they play viola too”. Ocassionally it’d become a two-way street, and there’d be long discussions about Menuhin or Yo Yo Ma. Some of them were clearly Gramophone reviewers who’d missed their vocations.

It’s the same the world over. I can remember someone talking to me on the ‘T’ in Boston, asking me why I was in the states and asking me about my schooling. Travelling by air is always a hoot – everyone on the entire plane will smile at me, most will say something (everyone but the person sat in front of me, who will try and fail miserably to recilne their seat throughout the entire journey). It’s like having a badge that says “I’m cool, friendly”. I now hate the anonymity of travelling without it. It’s boring, I’m like everyone else. Just queuing in line to go through security. No fuss. A Joe Nobody.

I think I’ve found a second object. Today I was getting some sunset shots over Bristol. Nothing unusual in me carrying my camera. But the lovely Sarah has bought me a tripod, and it would appear the tripod qualifies me as a professional photographer. Passing motorists smiled. Then, eventually, one guy pulled over and, lowering his window, said what a lovely sunset it was, how he hoped I got some good shots and remarked it was gettnig cold (maybe my blue hands were giving away the sub-zero air temperature).

That’s it. Eureka. When I can’t take the cello, I can carry around the tripod. I may never have to travel in silence again!