Sunday, November 02, 2008

Why the path of true love is fraught with obstacles [part one of four]: a bus stop in Levenshulme.

If the previous post was about the joys of stealing famous people's wonderful words, this one is about the joy of reading the common folk's efforts. Pure theft again.

First up: Love, lust & bugger off - life at a Levenshulme bus stop:

Boy sees girl. Boy fancies girl. Boy can't pluck up the courage to speak to her - or boy just catches a glimpse of the red haired lovely as she gets on the 192. Boy decides to do something. He is hopelessly head over heels in love. He is the hero of a Levenshulme based romantic comedy. Boy has an idea. He pulls his notepad and pen out of his backpack and scribbles a frantic message. Sticks it up in the bus stop. Waits for his bus and gets on. See images 1 & 2 below.

He puts in his email address in the hope that she will be impressed enough by his courage and lovely sentiment to send him a quick little electronic note. O, but he has to put in a quick p.s.

"I hope you will recognise the description in order to meet in person (in prison?) one day. The man in the ADIDAS cap. Look forward to seeing you. Regards Pierre (Zierre?)."

What a lovely man. How hopelessly exotically lovely and ambitious and dreadfully optimistic he is. Pierre. Have you not been living in Lev too long? Are you a Parisian...? You are a brave man. I salute you, monsieur.

Now let's have a look at Act III of the drama: live from a bus stop in Levenshulme...

It seems our flame haired temptress reads the note from dear Pierre and writes a reply. I can hardly bate my breath in anticipation. What will the minx have to say:

O, the path of true love. It never runs smooth does it? But don't give up, Pierre. Next time, write "Dear brown haired girl." Hedge your beds, mate. If the lady of your dreams doesn't answer, someone might. Has to be worth a try....

[from zawtowers' photostream on flickr & who blogged this first]

I love ordinary people and their *ordinary* words. We are all ordinary. And all different. One of the *joys* of the internets is finding out about the secrets of people's lives.

Hours can be spent in a productive manner wasted delving through other people's photos and bloggage. For no other reason than because you can. I like to think I have some posh antropological excuse for my nosey fascination with reading other people's thoughts and flickring through their pictures, but really it's just noseyness.

I mean, I do have a bit of a problem with my curiosity, but it's not like I go rooting through my next door neighbour's wheelie bin looking through their rubbish for secrets. I don't do that. Any more. Not since the court order...

And these days there's no need to get your hands dirty. Cos everyone puts their secrets up online. Or if they don't, someone else will do it for them.

Here, Maurice Broaddus posts his 7 year old son's first love letter for everyone to read. Cute and yet, I'm not sure I should be reading it... 

[from  -  scroll down]

There's plenty more voyeuristic pleasure to be had at Look, how teenage love can hurt: 

[Kevin's Facebook sadness from]

Perhaps, Kevin, you wanted to be more than *just* a friend? O dear. Should have written her (or him?) a note, mate, like Pierre did, at least then you would have known for sure. Don't hesitate or you'll miss your chance. Though perhaps you'd get a note like this one below. Sometimes you'd just rather not know [from]


  1. Interesting post! It's amazing how much people will share their feelings in public at the risk of much embarrassment. I think the bloke who posted his son's love letter online took things a bit far though!

  2. I can just imagine "pierre" from Lev. Stood at the bus stop outside the train station no doubt, adidas cap on (to match his shell suit).
    Real name: Peter.
    Weapon of choice: Pen.

    Still, its nice that someone would do that, and nicer still that someone has not got a phone and so resorts to writing notes, letters, (Dear mum, whats for tea?) - maybe he learnt calligraphy in "person"?

    I think this story has just made my day! :)


  3. What gets me about the bus stop one is that they both managed to find some cellotape. That makes me suspicious,but I guess Pierre (or "Peter") could be a serial note leaver. He is, as Sam says, a man out of time. An A4 notepad love struck Banksy. I am going to look out for more of his work. Or perhaps give up this blog and just stick post-it notes up all over town. That could be the future.

    And yes, Martin, I too worry about the 7 year old son's love note. And yet the father is proud: of the grammar, the politeness, the fact that he gives his playmate a compliment about her hair. He's a young gentleman...

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