I am now a temporary resident of Little Venice, which I don’t understand why it’s called like this because it looks nothing like Venice.
This Little Venice which doesn’t look at all like Venice is nevertheless a pretty neighbourhood of which I know nothing, except that not far from here there’s that famous zebra crossing where the Beatles were photographed for one of their album covers. I was thinking it would be great to redux that with me carrying a bag of shit… But anyway, since I’m now living here, I thought it would be nice to get to know the area and hang out with some new local people. And so the day I arrived I went to the pub with the two friends who helped me move the boat, and there we met a fellow boater. The man, a bit older than me, was very friendly and very keen to tell me how things are done on boats. He tried to convince me that I should buy a lot of coal because the snow is coming, even though since I’ve been here I’ve barely used a bag. He did a bit of mansplaining but I had drunk some beer and he was OK enough to overlook that. And maybe I was being too judgemental and he was just trying to be helpful. The man was accompanied by a woman who claimed to have been his lover at some point but was no more. There was an unclear dynamic between them, but I didn’t really care. I just was very happy to be in a warm place and to be drinking beer. After telling me again that I should buy more coal, he said I should visit him for coffee on his boat, which, it turns out, was just a few boats away from mine. He said he works from the boat and that I should pass by anytime the following day to drink coffee. In between recommendations and advice, he reiterated his invitation to have coffee at least another couple of times before I left, and so I finally promised I would go. Disclaimer: I did not find the man attractive, nor particularly interesting, but he insisted so much and I don’t have a coffee machine yet. So anyway the following day, after having done a bit of work, I decided to go for a walk around this Little Venice which looks nothing like the real Venice and, since it was on the way, I stopped at my coal-connoisseur friend. I knocked on the window and shortly after he emerged, smiling. I said I’m here for the bloody coffee (I didn’t say bloody), and asked if it was a good time for it. And he said NO. He had A LOT of work on. NOT a good time. He didn’t want to work at weekend. A lot of work. A lot of work. Yeah sorry, a lot of work. He did not suggest we drink coffee another time, he seemed to have lost all the enthusiasm he had the previous evening. And so I said OK bye then, and left.
Then tonight, Saturday night, imbued with the same spirit of wanting to hang out in the area with people from the area, I had sort of arranged to see someone else who lives around here. Without going into much of a detail, I can tell you with certainty that he behaved like a childish twat.
The moral of the story is that Little Venice is apparently a breeding ground for Silly, Little Men who think too highly of themselves and are a bit disrespectful. I never asked for the bloody coffee. And it wasn’t me who said let’s go out on Saturday. Although of course I was happy to do both these things, otherwise I would not have agreed to them in first place. Shit can happen, or we just change our minds, but these are all things which can be communicated without taking the piss.
Silly, Little Men of Little Venice which looks nothing like the real Venice: grow up.