ALL RIGHT DARLING?

ALL RIGHT DARLING?
I bought a mattress over the weekend. It involved a few telephone calls - mainly because I had thought there were only one or two sizes of double beds. I was wrong. 'There's a lot of different sizes darling.' A pleasant gruff voice came over the line. We measured the bed - a futon. We squabbled over the tape measure, as you do, (or we do anyway) and realised we had a 'continental' size bed. I got back to Mr gruff and told him the size. All right darling, I 'll get it to you by four o'clock.' 'Oh thanks darling' I said, 'that's brilliant.' The delivery man continued the affectionate exchanges and didn't even give me time to bung him a tip for lugging it up four flights of stairs he was smiley and charming, not what I expected at all, a nice surprise.

Today, before 10 o'clock I was greeted and addressed as 'hen'in a lovely Glasgow voice. Followed by 'my lovely one' and 'sweetheart' by total strangers. All fairly exuberantly and with a good deal of matiness. In the first instance I asked the guy whereabouts in Wales he came from, which got a laugh, thank god. I once quipped something similar to a guy from South Africa who took my hints of antipodean ancestry well amiss.. I can't resist a one liner.

Last night in the chippy the governor addressed me as darling and I reciprocated. He gave me a glass of wine. I also find that I have a tendency to mirror accents which is sometimes seen as piss taking, it is not, I am not sure what it is and suspect it may be some kind of grovelling attempt to fit in, anyway it doesn't work but I persist.
I guess it's in the intention of the words because in hospital I can get quite starchy if people call me dearie or my love, I smell patronage. In the eighties I would cheerfully challenge any man who had the temerity to use terms of intimacy, now, I find myself returning the compliment - if that's what it is. This way is certainly more peaceful.
I often get invited by ciderheads in the park to have a drink and have been known to have strangers come up to me in boozers and ask me where they can score, so I reckon I must have one of those faces - approachable? Deviant? Take your pick. In foreign towns I find the roughest cafes or bars by instinct and I seem to fit in. A gift I think. I seldom get challenged and am mostly ignored after my initial entrance, though strangers often offer me fags, I watch points and people, it is astounding what you can pick up without being able to understand a word. The hierarchies seem similar in most cultures and there is always a top dog, often inexplicably. In a Lisbon café the chief honcho among a group of old guys was a man with one tooth, and memories of Aden during the war. We got along famously with him feeding me port and me making the company roll ups. The conversation was distinctly limited but friendly until my companion insisted we went to look at ceramics.
I prefer to look at people any day they fascinate me. And now that I am not seen as potential conquest I can look to my hearts content..