A broad Cockney accent and he’s on the phone:
“Once we’ve got to that stage...I know baby, we’re there already and I’m just going to tell her. I don’t care...”
“I just want to see you, you know, say three nights a week and two weekend days every month. And I’d fight for that, you know? I don’t care what she says. I’ll fight for it.”
He gets up and wanders away. I’m thinking he’s surely embarrassed to be having this conversation two feet away from me. But no, three minutes later and he’s back with a beer. Faithful Costa serving beer.
“I’d give up, you know, two and a half grand a month, just so I didn’t have to see her, you know. I just want to know the kids’ll be alright but I don’t want to see her, y’know?”
“She just follows me around, you know? I can’t go anywhere. I tell her, I’ve got a playstation wii and a gameboy in there. That’s what I’m going to do. But she just follows me in and sits there watching me silently. I’m sick of it, you know?”
“ ‘Ang on, I’ve got a friend on the other line, a South Wales friend, 'ang on…”
“ ‘Ooo’s that? Eh? Oh, hiya mate…. Yeah I can get 'em, how many do you want? Yeah, they’ll be worth a lot more over there. Ehhh? Why don’t I give you a call tomorrow and we’ll get something done for you, John eh? Thank you John mate. Bye.”
I should be writing a research proposal but I’m transfixed (aurally) by this conversation behind my back.
Now he's on to someone else:
“I don’t fink they really expect me to do anything while I’m here. You know, they’ve only given me £500 spending money. And last time when I went away, they gave me £1,200 and that was only for 4 days.”
What job does this guy do??
“Eh, you wouldn’t believe the bird I’ve got at the moment, mate...”
Then he starts chatting about a particularly explicit encounter between himself and this bird.
“I’ll see you at ten past nine. I’ll grab a couple of bottles of champagne. Pink champagne, innit? Great. See you soon, mate.”
And he’s off. Wish he was on my flight…