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I'm not a nosey person by nature (I know, that's what all busybodies say – but I'm not!) However, a few days ago, my curiosity happened to get the better of me whilst I was standing in the queue at my local supermarket.

I was out and about running a few errands. I'd gathered together a list of groceries and was patiently waiting my turn to sample the delights of the 'Mega Ba'Ir' checkout, when I heard the tail-end of a gossipy conversation between two English-speaking women at the adjacent conveyor belt.

One looked at the other, glanced furtively over both shoulders, before stating, "...and then his leg fell off!"
"It never did!" said her companion, with a facial expression that managed to convey both horror and suppressed laughter at the same time.
"It did! I swear it did"
"What on earth did you do?"
"Well, I went over and helped him to his feet – I mean foot!" at which point they both burst out laughing – and so did I!

They then grabbed their receipt and scuttled out of the store.

I've been wondering ever since what exactly was the chain of events that led to this bizarre moment. I know that the politically correct brigade will chime in and say it's not nice to laugh at people with disabilities (which is absolutely true), but in my experience handicapped people also have a sense of humour, often, in fact, better than their able-bodied counterparts, so I don't apologize for mentioning the tale.

That reminds me by the way, of that old line about the PC brigade insisting that they objected to the title of their local Christmas pantomime 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarves'. After much negotiating the politically correct promotional hoarding was raised on high, advertising 'Snow Caucasian and the Seven Gentlemen of Diminutive Stature'!

Anyway, back to eavesdropping.

A few years ago when I was living back in Leeds, England, my trusty old Ford Orion gave up the ghost and I was left having to use public transport for a few weeks. I hadn't actually been on a bus for ages and wasn't looking forward to the experience, but it turned out to be something of a masterclass in the art of 'conversation of the common man…and woman'.

I joined the bus in the fairly rarified surrounds of Roundhay Park, and the route then took me through the 'yuppie' area of Chapel Allerton, before rolling on down to Chapeltown, a primarily black and Asian district, that had once been home to most of the Jewish population of the city before World War II, and for quite a while after. Eventually the bus rumbled on into the City Centre.

On my first journey I took a seat behind too obviously Jewish ladies of 'a certain age' who were engrossed in an earnest debate about whether or not it was possible to cook pickle meat in a microwave. They seemed blissfully unaware that nearly everyone else on the bottom deck was earwigging and on more than one occasion, another lady of a similar vintage, sitting a row or two ahead of me, could be seen with her shoulders going up and down at quite a pace, suggesting that she was in near fits of hysterical laughter.

One conversation I heard though, on the No.3 bus I shall never forget. It made me wish that I had been temporarily deaf at that moment. A white woman with a pretty mixed-race daughter (aged about three years old) got onto the bus with a black friend. The two women took the seat in front of me and indicated to the little girl to sit in the row in front of them. The conversation went something like this:

'So, are you going to move in with him then?'
'I think so.'
'But I thought you said that he wouldn't have you with a kid in tow?' said the friend.
'That's right. He won't', replied the girl's mother.
'I don't get it. How's it going to work then?'
With the three-year-old certainly in earshot, the mother declared:
'I'm giving her up for adoption.'
'You're not, are you?' said the bemused friend.
'I am. D'you think I'm going to miss out on him for her sake?' said the mother gesturing towards the child.
'No, I s'pose not' replied the friend.

At which point I reached my stop and had to get off. For days I couldn't help thinking about that poor little child and what might become of her. Some people just don't deserve the privilege of having children. It was shocking.

On a lighter note, (and going back to the latest bout of eavesdropping in the Zichron supermarket), if anyone wants to write to me with thoughts on how the poor chap  I mentioned at the start of this blog ended up in such a predicament, I'd be very happy to hear from you. It did cross my mind that he might not even be a human, and could have been an animal.

By the way, let me wish everyone all the best for 2010. Let's hope it brings health, happiness and peace to us all.