For the past couple of weeks I have been working in a pub to earn some money for travelling whilst working for free for a production company in order to gain some invaluable production experience.
In the short time that I have worked at the pub I have spoken to a lot of strangers, some strangers more familiar than others. While it may sound odd to describe a stranger as familiar I am of course referring to the regulars. Many of them initially seem hot headed, a little leary and mainly consist of older men who are very particular about how they like their drinks poured and in which glass. However, rather than being irritated by them I have decided to find out from each person, who is willing, a little bit about themselves and as I do, I discover a little bit about myself.
Although I know a few of the regular customers’ names, I find that if I strike up conversation by offering information about myself that I find out a lot about their past and their experiences. In particular when I describe the places I wish to travel many people have already been, or know someone who has lived there, and offer me advice on where to go or warn me if, for example, the North of Vietnam is not as friendly as the South. I welcome this advice with enthusiasm and they continue to talk and tell me about their lives and their travels. But, despite talking to some of the customers for a good half an hour, they often leave without a name or mention when they may return. In this respect, these people are of course my familiar strangers.
Often, after an insightful conversation with a customer they leave me wondering, about the customers who don’t engage in so much conversation: what’s happened in their lives? Where have they been? What are/were their dreams? Who have they loved? Are they happy?
Then, this week with these sorts of questions fresh in my mind, I went to interview a Historian with the production company and it left me wondering these questions even more. The man we met, Alan, lives in a small terrace house in Folkestone that only stands out because of the bright yellow colour of the garage. But amazingly inside in his study there are years and years of history as he shows us all the photographs and postcards that he has collected of Folkestone in World War 1.
There must have been hundreds, all neatly organised amongst 18th century books and his wife’s collection of royal china. Around 70 years old, Alan told us that he initially qualified as a carpenter, then brought a boat with his father until eventually he gave all that up to pursue his hobby as a historian: he is now, in 2011, the founder of the Folkestone History society and has published five books (and co-published two.)
We were with Alan in his little study for just over two hours and he showed us many black and white photographs taken during and Post World War 1. He could describe to us who some of the people were and what had happened to them during the time that the photographs were taken. Each picture had a description of time and place on the back, and as I looked down at the faces of these people in these pictures- some smiling and some not- I began to think about history and how little did they know that posing for this insignificant picture would land them in a WW1 documentary for 2012.
So as we closed the door to Alan’s house and drove away, I looked at all the other houses in the street and thought about how incredible people’s lives were: I wondered how many people down the street did not know about all the history stored in Alan’s study, how many people down that particular street had a similar hobby, or perhaps how many people down the street had lived a similar life to me or maybe even endured a life tainted by heartache and pain. The funny thing is that despite my incessant wondering I will probably never know about another single soul that lives in that street and that left me feeling incredibly insignificant.
I was back behind the bar the following day and a familiar stranger came in with his walking stick, I think he is around 80 years old, and as always he ordered a double Grouse. He is smiley and gracious but also a little reserved. Yesterday he came in had two double Grouse, then left and returned about two hours later and had the same again. I wondered where he had been for a short period of time and why he had returned. In the evening rush that came to follow I still did not get round to asking his name. But, I will definitely ask the next time I serve him.
Finding out something as simple as someone’s name, or what they have spent their lives doing makes them significant to you and to themselves. I also think that it would be lovely to see the mysterious Grouse man in the street and use his name to greet him and ask how he is. You never know who has travelled, read and experienced all of the things that you are about to embark upon. It makes me very aware of how other people’s pasts can shape your own or help you on the way. Behind every face, every door and every character there is a history and a life that defines them. Through meeting and talking to these people I have learnt many things but, most importantly, I have learnt that taking the time to learn about others allows you to learn something about yourself.
All of these familiar strangers have now played a small part in my life and because of this I believe that they are extremely significant to me. After all we never know how long we have left to play a part in the world.
“All the worlds a stage and all the men and women are merely players.” As you like it ~ William Shakespeare.
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