I Talk to Strangers: Upstairs and Downstairs

By Carole Chandler

Anyone can turn their life around.

Anyone can significantly transform the way people respond to them.

I know they can because I did.

I thought it might be fun to share some of my wonderful, wacky, and weird interactions with random people.

I talk to strangers because they talk to me, and bus-related stories have inspired my third book.

Enjoy!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Jan 22, 2013
• ISBN: 9781452567051

Carole Chandler

Carole is likely to be found somewhere in London indulging in one of her many passions—dancing, painting, smiling, walking, writing, meditating, eating, laughing, and talking to strangers. In her spare time Carole enjoys helping individuals to reclaim their inner peace and emotional harmony by the magic of Reiki and massage.

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Copyright © 2013 Carole Chandler.

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The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4525-6704-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-6706-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-6705-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013900810

Balboa Press rev. date: 1/18/2013

I talk to strangers. Why? They talk to me

Have strangers always talked to me? Not a chance

What changed? Me

Why did I change? Well something had to be done

How did I change? Focus

What was the result? Misery to joy in one lifetime

Can anyone create this change? Yes, anyone

*

Changes took place in every aspect of my existence and I started experiencing a profound difference in the way people responded to me, everywhere I went.

Over time I told a few friends about what someone said here or what another person said there. They enjoyed my tales and suggested I share my experiences. I considered writing a book but hesitated about where, when and how.

I went to Ireland for a few days this year and the result was my first book, ‘to be sure to be sure to be sure’. In retrospect it was simply the warm up. Then my second book was born with tales of interactions ‘here, there and everywhere’.

This is my third. Enjoy.

*

I have been well and truly bitten by the writing bug. When my second book creation had finished taking shape, I thought I needed a break but that idea was soon overridden by my urge to enjoy the momentum. To my surprise this creative force has more power than I had imagined and I find myself launching into my third book, without taking the holiday which I had promised myself. There is some probability that people who enjoy the first two may be inclined to try this one, so as I find my literary juices flowing freely, I may as well stay with this energy and write while my enthusiasm is still strong. Ooh what fun. My tales of strangers talking to me on buses are waiting to be shared and while I have not decided precisely how I will proceed, it will be interesting to see how this publication unfolds.

I am tempted to quote Julie Andrews from one of my favourite feel good movies, ‘Let’s start at the very beginning, a very good place to start…’ The only problem is that I am unaware of the beginning of my bus adventures. They have evolved so gradually that I did not even notice them happening. I guess there are many reasons why my experiences were so different where I used to live, so interestingly my lovely new interactions have mostly happened during the past few years.

One of my earliest moments when I noticed some kind of difference taking place was when I sat at the bus stop at the top of my road, where I used to live on the Surrey London borders. While waiting for a number 33 to Hammersmith, I noticed the same driver of a 493 which stopped at the same place. He obviously remembered me too because over time he progressed from a nod, to a nod and smile, to a triple combo of nod, smile and wave. I was new to the stranger thing and his acknowledgement of me was a big deal. He probably thought nothing of it but I remember feeling good about receiving his cheery greetings. When I moved to Tooting, I saw him occasionally on the same route by which time I was well accustomed to drivers waving at me and it felt good to see him again.

*

Okay, next I feel like returning to the memory of an encounter a couple of years ago, when I boarded a number 77 from the Wimbledon Road stop on Garratt Lane early one Sunday morning. I had decided to treat myself to a fun time at the South Bank’s Royal Festival Hall and was excited to see which genre of free musical treat would be in store for me in the foyer that day. I have previously enjoyed listening to some wonderful choirs and musical accompaniments for dance workshops, when sometimes the only reasonable thing to do is to just let go of all inhibitions and sing along.

So with my keen anticipation for the delights ahead, I boarded the double decker and did what I always do, I smiled and said hallo to the driver. Well of course I did, I mean why wouldn’t? After all he was doing me the honour of driving me from home to my destination, so the very least I could do was offer a simple cheerful salutation at no cost and little effort. After a smile, a hallo and a bleep of my trusty Oyster card, I sat upstairs at the front for my travelling enjoyment. I shall say it now and I suspect I may say it again, that sitting upstairs at the front of a double decker bus is the best show in town. Fact.

The route for this service ends in Waterloo, this was my stop anyway and the bus was going no further, so I did what I always do, I walked to the front of the bus to say thank you to the driver. Well of course I did, I mean, why wouldn’t? After all he had done me the honour or driving me from home to my destination, so the very least I could do was offer him a few simple cheerful words of gratitude at no cost and little effort.

I do this because I like to say thank you. It makes me feel good and if the driver responds, that is a bonus. Sometimes they do and sometimes they do not, either way it is fine with me. I understand that everyone has ‘stuff’ going on in their lives so there can be a multitude of reasons why someone may be feeling a tad grumpy. Let’s face it, I had chosen to travel into town on a Sunday morning and I appreciate that other people might prefer to do other things with their lives at that time of the day. Who knows, perhaps I would have chosen differently if I had a car to wash in the street, a dog to walk in the park, a partner to cuddle under the duvet, a church to share hymns with others or one of the many other Sunday morning activities which may have been taking place elsewhere.

I said thank you to the driver and I started walking away, what I did not expect was for him to call me back. He wanted to talk to me. Why? Apparently, because I had said thank you and apparently that was unusual. He said that I was unusual for doing it. He had more to say. He also wanted to speak to me because he had noticed me when I boarded. Why? Apparently, because I had said hallo and apparently that was unusual. He said that I was unusual for doing it. He had more to say. In fact he was jolly chatty indeed. We conversed for several minutes there on his otherwise empty bus. He introduced himself and he really liked my name. When he asked me if I was going to church, it was my instinct to say that wherever I am is my church, my spiritual home is wherever I want it to be but I decided to keep those thoughts to myself, as I probably did not know him well enough to embark on that level of discussion. He told me about his recent holiday, said a few things about his darling mother and we parted wishing each other a good day. How nice of this lovely man to so willingly engage me in conversation. How lovely of this nice man to allow me to encroach on his valuable break time between journeys. He could have quite easily let me go when I first spoke to him and locked himself on his passenger free bus to enjoy some quiet time, before the next lot of people joined him. He could have quite easily hidden on his bus and pretended to be invisible, as so many drivers do (bless them) when having a well-earned rest. Yet here was this delightful man giving me access to him and his time by sharing joyful conversation. I am blessed.

A couple of weeks later I was walking along Garratt Lane when I heard the hoot of a horn. I ignored it. I heard it again, I ignored it. I crossed the road, heard the hooting tooting again and ignored it again. Why did I ignore it repeatedly? No particular reason, except that when I am walking, I generally focus my attention on the present moment, finding the beauty in something to observe and ignore distractions which do not concern me such as sirens, car horns, some forms of human activity and such like.

By the time I had crossed the road I became aware of a vehicle driving slowly beside me, not just any vehicle but a double decker bus. I vaguely wondered why it was moving quite so slowly when I heard the tooting hooting again and guessed that it was coming from the slow mover. Perfectly convinced that the noise could have little to do with me, I idly glanced in the direction of the large red people transporter, only to find the driver waving energetically at me. Guess who? It was my chap from the Sunday morning conversation time at Waterloo. What a sweetheart. Not only did he remember me but he went to all that trouble to attract my attention. I mean seriously, what a sweetheart.

I was more than a little bit surprised because he was between stops, with several people on board, who probably wondered what on earth was going on. Oh bless him, he made my day. I have had the pleasure of seeing him since and enjoyed a cheerful greeting or nod or wave from a distance. Once I even saw him standing at a bus stop in Tooting Broadway, where he told me that he was working overtime on what should have been his day off and looking forward to the remainder of the Bank Holiday weekend. He was an absolute darling and all of this was the result of a simple hallo.

*

So here I am already having fun reliving a wonderful meeting-a-driver interaction. There are plenty of driver related stories to share but more about the angels of the road later. I am following the urge to chat about others who are not officially controlling transport but who may equally drive us around the bend or even drive or crazy for one reason or another. However, my aim is to keep my tales in a positive frame of mind. It is possible that I may slip up once or twice, so I apologise in advance if I get carried away. Lots of less than positive stories can be told about what this person said or what that person did, revolving around people being upset about one thing or another. They are so often the stuff of soap operas and my goal here is quite different.

For more clarification about where I am coming from, why I think the way I do and what makes me tick, of course it is not compulsory but this book will make considerably more sense if my previous books have been read. My first book ‘I Talk to Strangers – to be sure, to be sure, to be sure’ has turned out to be my warm up. Then in ‘I Talk to Strangers – here there and everywhere’ I really got going and gave some extended attention to why, who, how, where and when of my journey, leading to the joyful existence which I experience now. In short, my life has been transformed as a direct result of changing my way of thinking. A major change is that strangers never used to talk to me and they do now. Anyone who is inspired to learn more is welcome to delve into my previous publications, as I envisage this one being primarily devoted to the variety of bus related encounters which have been sent my way.

*

For readers who are used to me and those who are new to me, here is a teeny weeny glimpse of how my mind works.

Today I watched a fly. I watched it for ages as it took the long trek up the window pane upstairs on a number 319 bus from Clapham Junction to Streatham. When I say fly, I could not tell you which type, I suppose there are hundreds, possibly thousands of classifications and sub categories for small winged creatures. I confess to not knowing specifics. This little creature was teeny with a body about two millimetres long and fine translucent wings trailing behind. His legs were like short blond eyelashes and would have been invisible against the light but I observed him closely because I was interested in him, I was interested in how he looked and how he moved and then I wondered why he was here at all.

He looked beautiful. I decided that he was perfectly formed, perfect in every way, not so unlike us. With his lightly coloured body and even lighter wings I struggled to maintain my focus on him, as he continued his long walk, with the bright blue sky in the background. Up, up, up the pane he travelled in a straight line straight up, using his tentacles he seemed to manage really well. Then again I had no idea what his goal was. Did he have an appointment with a similar creature up there in the bus? Was he looking for food up there in the bus? Did he even know that he was up there in the bus?

He moved forward without straying to the left or the right, I wondered how he even knew that he was going straight. Perhaps he did not know, perhaps he did not need to know. He covered some ground in miniscule insect terms, when after some minutes and about thirty centimetres he executed a sudden change of plan. He released his grip on the glass and allowed himself to drop. Why did he not use his wings? Mine is not to question why. He dropped down. Where did he go? I looked below and there he was making another trek of a new course up my thigh. He was much easier to observe as his yellow form contrasted with my black trousers. I watched him walk upwards then offered him the index finger of my left hand, by way of providing interest of a previously undiscovered terrain. He accepted the offer immediately.

Mr Yellow Fly walked another straight line along the outside edge of my finger and continued along my hand. So small was he, that I was unable to feel his movement. Not so much as a slight tickle, yet I did not need to feel him to confirm his existence. I could see him clearly enough.

As if bored with his new adventure, he once again made the impromptu decision to release his grip on my skin and let go, this time using his skills to fly back to the window pane. There he walked up, up up again.

What did I learn from the yellow fly? I learned that nothing matters.

There you have it. I wrote all that as soon as I sat down at the café while it was still fresh in my mind, while I still felt at one with the experience, while it still felt like a thought I might want to share some day. I have written it here exactly as I wrote it at the table that day, with my pot of Jasmine tea for liquid refreshment. If I had made any amendments to it, I may have been inclined to include the fun words Hymenoptera and Lepidoptera, when denying all knowledge of small winged creature classifications. It is amazing what you can learn from a quality sit-com. They are just a couple of additions to my vocabulary gleaned from an episode of the wonderful American comedy, ‘Frasier’. Never mind I did not think of them at the time so I have taken the opportunity to squeeze them in here, just for the fun of it.

I see my willingness to scrutinise the behaviour of a fly as a demonstration of maintaining my focus in the moment. It shows one of the ways I stay present. Keeping my attention in the present moment is important to me and is a skill which I have consciously practised. It is particularly valuable for my work and I like to believe is a contributory factor in the enjoyment of my reiki and massage treatments. Okay it seems like I have drifted away from buses already but then again it is all relevant. There is some indication that one of the reasons for my many encounters is my ability to be present with people.

*

One afternoon I sat upstairs on a busy number 57 moving slowly along Wimbledon Broadway. As ever I was in no particular hurry but the poor lady who sat beside me by the window, seemed quite unable to sit comfortably still, in her ever increasing state of agitation. Looking over the heads of people in an effort to assess our progress, she sighed and sighed. I looked at her and smiled. She was in no state of mind to smile back but I did not mind at all. It was then that she chose to voice her concerns. She was bothered, really bothered about how long the journey was taking and wondered what the delay could be. I had no response available other than to suggest that we were in fact moving and would get there eventually.

This was probably not overly helpful and probably not what she wanted to hear but it was what I was thinking and worked for me, so I stayed with