MURAKAMI, MADNESS AND THE MOTHER.

Ah, the joys of public transport. Anyone who knows me knows that I love to read. I never go anywhere without a book in tow. Now that I have a day job, I am forced to sneak in reading time on the commute to and from work, (which is no mean feat for someone who suffers from motion sickness, let me tell you), and for the most part, it is a pleasant experience, particularly in the morning as most of my fellow passengers are all quiet and sullen for some unknown reason ;-). This past Friday morning, however, was a different story. Having arrived at the halfway point of Murakami's magnum opus, 1Q84, I was understandably keen to devouir as much of the novel as I possibly could before trudging into the office and, for the first few minutes, it was going well.

Then SHE boarded.

A non-descript, unthreatening-looking woman who, like almost everyone else on the bus, wore a 'Do Not Poke The Bear' expression. She was cheerfully greeted by the driver, an older chap who apparently trades in his reindeer and sleigh the other three hundred and sixty three days of the year for a volvo monster that traverses the Chadstone shopping centre route. Everybody was (reasonsably) happy. Then HER phone rang. For the next ten and a half minutes, this pleasant-looking woman brayed down the receiver at her offspring, disturbing the passengers, distracting the driver and, worst of all, making me lose my place in my book just as Aomame was walking accross the Tokyo expressway for the second time. The following is a transcript of the conversation, (the abridged version).

'NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!

...

'FUCK OFF! FUCK OFF! FUCK OFF! FUCK OFF! FUCK OFF!'

...

'NO! NO! NO! NO! GET TO SCHOOL! GET TO SCHOOL! I'M NOT BUYIN' IT! BOOKS ARE A WASTE OF MONEY!'

...

'NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!'

At this point in proceedings, Glad Santa did a complete one-eighty and turned into Mad Santa, glaring into the rear view mirror and shouting:

'WILL YOU SHUT UP? THERE ARE OTHER PEOPLE HERE AND IT'S DISTRACTING!'

And hey, presto! Enjoy the silence!

I'm not a Mummy Judger. I hate Mummy Judgers, which is why I didn't weigh in on the conversation and tell the woman off, (let's face it, how many of us haven't wanted to issue the old verbal heave-ho at our kids at one time or another?), but to tell a kid that a book was a waste of money? The hackles on the back of my neck were crowding in by the thousands. Standing room only for hackles. I really hope the kid was able to find the book they were after in the school library because, in this age of screens and remotes and text-message conversations, any parent worth their salt should be thrilled that their kid loves to read. I grew up in a low-income household myself and was on first-name terms

with the folks at my local library by the time I was twelve. If your kid shows an interest in books, and not just as props to stand the PS3 on, don't discourage them, lest you relish the idea of the gradual melting-down of the English language into a sludge of grunts and LOL speak.