Is that not a glorious word? It doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as well as some of my other favourite words (deciduous, misanthropy) but it’s evocative and naughty and I like it. There has also been a large quantity of it in the last few days. Some related to the business, some related to my hair.

I’ve grudgingly spent a lot of time in my company over the years, and have noticed certain things about myself in relation to conversation. I appear to be able to talk at a competitive level, and seem to have some difficulty stopping. Not especially on a given subject, but in a more general, stream-of-consciousness sort of way that rambles on in inscrutably long sentences with no apparent point, all the while edging happily along the boundaries of actual discourse and plain silliness. But I can’t do small talk. Perhaps I lived in Germany too long (fun fact: they don’t have a word for it) or perhaps I just don’t get it.

The Key To Small Talk: Don't Make Eye Contact.

For this reason I have never really enjoyed situations like hairdressers, incidental meetings between acquaintances and accidental eye contact in confined spaces. We, as a nation, are masters of this fine art, to the extent that we build it into our most basic greetings and interactions. I do not know what the answer to “Y’allright?” or “Allright?” is, and I have yet to discover any response that leaves both parties feeling anything other than mildly confused and/or uncomfortable.

It’s therefore my pleasure to get past the pleasantries and get on to the substance of conversation, where opinions can change hands and thoughts can be shared. We have needed a lot of that this week. Regular followers may remember that Barny gave me a sparkly ring and I cried all over him some months ago, and have since then been trying furiously to arrange a wedding and run a business at the same time, without letting all the nitty gritty associated with marrying someone spill onto the blog. Then all of a sudden there seemed to be nothing but therapeutic talking going on, mostly around the hair on Saturday, that being the day when we went to sort out wedding hair.

For the uninitiated this is nothing like real hair, and involves several kilos on pins and a fair amount of abnormal girliness.

On Sunday Barny and I attacked the outstanding applications and had some excellent conversations with fellow food van owners and festival organisers. Not only are we not the only ones out there who have not been doing this since the dawn of time, but there are actually people out there who like our concept enough to want us to come to their festival. I really need to try and accept that we have a good idea, and that we can make it work, but I think part of me still doesn’t want to say it out loud just yet.

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