It’s really beginning to feel like I only go to my mum’s so that on the way back I can upset some Mormons.
Because today makes it twice that it has happened.
Do I have a face that says I really want to talk to someone about religion? Because if I do, I need to spend some quality time in front of a mirror teaching it to do something else. Why can’t I have a resting bitch face? Why do I have to have a resting religious face? It doesn’t seem fair.
What’s worse is that today, I was made to feel like I was the one being rude rather than, say, the woman who wouldn’t shut the frick up and was talking to me, entirely unbidden.
So I’d been at mum’s for a few hours filling out a variety of different forms, sending things off with copies of various other things and things of that nature. I also, for funsies, found an “In Case Of Emergency” card in my mum’s card purse which pre-dated 1995. And the contact details for the bank when HSBC used to be Midland.
But anyway, I did all that. And then all I wanted to do was get home.
So I caught bus after bus and made it back to Huddersfield, and stood in the rain while I waited for the bus from town to home.
While I was there, for about ten minutes, the queue got longer and longer. And then, just before the bus arrived, two of the easily identifiable Mormon people arrived. I say easily identifiable because they have the little black badges on which may as well scream “AVOID!” at you. You need no other sign. The only place you happily see black badges like that is when they’re on the end of little sticks in various swanky gardens.
So I got on the bus. And there were a lot of people to get on behind me.
Obviously, no one sits next to me. Which isn’t a problem.
Until, naturally, the seat next to mine becomes the resting place for a Mormon’s arse.
I will now point out that since getting on the bus, I am on both my Kindle and my phone. I am doing all sorts of things, but primarily putting books that I have read onto my Good Reads page to see how badly I am fairing with the reading challenge for this year (answer = terribly). It couldn’t be more clear I am happy in what I am doing, and content with not talking to anyone about God.
“So, hi, cool question… is it going to snow down here in Huddersfield again?”
That’s the opener. But once she’s got that out, it’s a floodgate of piffle. “Have you lived in Huddersfield long?” is the one that gives her an in. I am basically monosyllabic at this point. Because I didn’t want to be out and out rude.
But then sometimes, maybe you should just be out and out rude.
“So you’ll be familiar with people with these little badges on…”
I should also point out that throughout this whole affair I have not lifted my eyes from either of my devices. I am, at this point, chuckling to myself as I purposefully choose a book about a demon-hunting detective, although I realise that changing the font size so that the demonic element of my reading is more visible may be a little bit too obvious.
Anyway, “Yes,” I said. “I have. And I don’t want this to sound rude. But I try my very best to avoid you all.”
“Because I’m not interested.”
“So you’ve been given a card then…”
“I don’t want a card. I am not interested. I avoid you guys because I couldn’t be clearly that I currently doing something and don’t want to talk to you and yet you keep talking to me…”
“No. Stop talking to me.”
“Oh, alright then.” At this point she turns and looks at her friend who is on the seat behind. They share a look that you would expect if I had broken into their house, naked, and shit on their rug. “Well, you have a nice day…”
And I thought she was finished.
“What is your name, by the way?”
What is my name? I’ve just told you not to bloody talk to me anymore and you’re asking for my name. You know, there are a few names you don’t want to throw into the ring when you’re skirting around the edges of a religious waffler. One of those is Jacob. Not that I would tell her my name anyway because…. arrgh!
“I’m not telling you my name!” I said. Quite loudly, to be fair.
She moved. More or less straight away. She moved down the bus to annoy someone else under the pretence of giving up her seat for someone else. Somone who was a small child. Who promptly fell asleep for the rest of the journey and had to be woken up by her mum when it was time to get off.
Much, much better.