Everybody's talking at me...

I have that face. That kind of face that makes people feel I am 'approachable'. Maybe it's mumsy? Maybe it sniffs of I teach children so have to talk a lot. Whatever it is, it makes strangers want to talk to me. All the bloody time.

Could be a shop assistant. Could be like over the weekend the sole person in a spa who talked to me throughout the only two hours I had to relax sans sprogs. Defo people on public transport. Especially how do I put it politely...mad people. I haven't learnt the "don't talk to me face". I have the "talk to me and tell me anything you want" face. Once a pupil put her hand up mid lesson about Easter to tell me about her Nan's hysterectomy. Lovely. 

People also weirdly enjoy telling me secrets despite me being atrocious in keeping them. I'm dreadful! By the time you're driving home in your car from a coffee with me, I've already text your news to my non caring hub. 

However. I brought a 'Tea makes me twerk' mug from Urban Outfitters a few weeks ago. In London. The check out girl just asked how I was in passing. And I found myself telling her all about my night out the night before and how the mug was for me and I was a teacher and couldn't take it to school and so on and so on. She looked bored to death. 

So maybe I haven't got that face. Maybe it's me that actively finds out the manager of a Boots and discusses the finer merits of ballet v tap.

So I apologise in advance. I feel my writing may be telling you all the random gumph that goes on in my mind. But here's a top tip. Don't tell me any secrets. Especially not about your Nan's hysterectomy. I may well put it in a blog. 
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