Richard Baum

Last night whilst leafleting I stumbled blindly into the type of social situation I try my utmost to avoid at all costs. I think you’ll agree that by running away, I handled it in the only sensible way.

I was jamming a leaflet into a letter box, and my idiot-fumblings clearly aroused the householder, who probably thought that war had been declared in his street. When he came to the door I immediately knew who he was, because I used to be friends with his brother. And he asked “Do I know you?” meaning of course “I know you, what are you doing trying to break into my house?”

Now, bear in mind that I hadn’t seen or spoken to him since I was an awkward school-boy, and throughout the intervening dozen or so years, during which time I have progressed to being an awkward adult, I have tried to avoid giving him and everyone else I knew / evething else I did at the age of 14 single moment’s thought. At that precise second though, stood with my hand through an open door’s letterbox, all my horrific teengage insecurities came flooding back in a tidal wave of school-changing-room-scented awfulness.

So essentially I had two choices. I could have engaged in conversation, enquired after his health, activities, and the well-being of his family whom I vaguely recall, and maybe re-kindled an old friendship. Or, I could have said “No mate, don’t think we know each other,” and hurried away, arms flailing like a maniac. Obviously, the thought of chatting to someone who’s last recollection of my was as a shaky-voiced 14 year old fills me with utter horror, so I chose the second option, and ran away.

This is the by-product of not being brave enough to move away from my home town. Around every corner there may lurk an older version of the playground bully or my first crush or my best friend from primary school who I haven’t seen since 1989. What can I do but run away? After all, they might have made more of their lives than me, and I couldn’t face finding that out. Thankfully we live in an age where people can easily move abroad, and by God I wish they all would. Tesco would be much less of an ordeal.

So if by any chance the person concerned has been giving our encounter as much thought as I have, and has Googled me today and found this site, let me say that I have no excuse for my rudeness other than social ineptness. So… sorry. And please stop stalking me.

Despite my experience, I’ll be back out on the streets tonight, no doubt. Leafleting and/or canvassing. My biggest fear of course is knocking on someone’s door to canvass them and discovering that we sat next to each other in geography in about 1993. I honestly think I’d flee the scene screaming. And to hell with the votes.

Rick