“Hi. It’s me. Yeah. Fine. You’ll never guess who I saw this morning. Taragon. Taragon Fuller. Yeah. She saw me she knew it was me but she just ignored me.”
(at this point I may accidentally have vocalised ‘there’s probably a reason for that luv’ which made the guy sitting opposite smirk)
So I shut the chavvy little girl out; I plugged in my iPod, switched on and cranked up the volume to drown out the rest of the conversation. I looked around the coach. It was plain that other people wished they had a similar retreat from this aural onslaught.
If this girl makes it to her 17th birthday in one piece it will only be because someone teaches her how to conduct a telephone conversation in the correct tones.