Weird/funny interaction today. I met up with my elderly stepdad at an aviation museum (his suggestion), lots of planes (naturally) and this being England, there was a big focus on WW2, because we love all that apparently.
So this staff member (an older guy, not a kid), approaches us and enthusiastically, and with authority, tells us about the Battle of Britain exhibition, reeling off facts. He then commented on my jacket, which he liked (it's actually based on old military designs).
I told him the material was ventile (assuming he'd know what that was), a cotton weave that the British air force introduced in WW2 for pilots, because although it was just cotton, the weave meant it drew water away from the skin and allowed them to survive a lot longer if downed in cold seas. A pretty neat way to carry the conversation on (which he started), frankly I didn't want to be there, but it was a pretty good gambit in museum small talk in my opinion.
Crickets. Fuck all interest. Maybe he thought I was lying. Who knows. But the truth is, he started a conversation about my jacket, weirdly my jacket had a relevant story to tell about his specialist subject, but because he's used to talking at people, rather than listening, he didn't actually learn something about the subject he blathers on to people about every day.
War bores.
I found the engineering fascinating, but the flag shagging tedious. The last display I looked at was an array of medals and uniforms. It was creepy to me. The whole thing made me uneasy.
So this staff member (an older guy, not a kid), approaches us and enthusiastically, and with authority, tells us about the Battle of Britain exhibition, reeling off facts. He then commented on my jacket, which he liked (it's actually based on old military designs).
I told him the material was ventile (assuming he'd know what that was), a cotton weave that the British air force introduced in WW2 for pilots, because although it was just cotton, the weave meant it drew water away from the skin and allowed them to survive a lot longer if downed in cold seas. A pretty neat way to carry the conversation on (which he started), frankly I didn't want to be there, but it was a pretty good gambit in museum small talk in my opinion.
Crickets. Fuck all interest. Maybe he thought I was lying. Who knows. But the truth is, he started a conversation about my jacket, weirdly my jacket had a relevant story to tell about his specialist subject, but because he's used to talking at people, rather than listening, he didn't actually learn something about the subject he blathers on to people about every day.
War bores.
I found the engineering fascinating, but the flag shagging tedious. The last display I looked at was an array of medals and uniforms. It was creepy to me. The whole thing made me uneasy.