Headphones out, boys

It would appear that at some point over my lifetime I have unknowingly acquired a sign that says, "I shall humour you if you decide to talk at me." People seem to think I'm excluded from that cardinal rule of London: Never talk to people you don't know. On the Tube, in the street, in museums — I catch someone's eye and that's it; I find myself being engaged in a conversation without having the heart to disentangle myself.

Which is why I'm also a steadfast proponent of that other blissful cardinal rule: Headphones in, boys. (As one of my brothers pointed out, and as grammar geeks will appreciate, the use of the comma for this rule is crucial). Going about your daily business to your own soundtrack aside, it sends a message to all those would-be rule breakers lurking out there: "Do not engage me in conversation. I am far too busy pretending I'm in a montage from Hustle to smile and nod as you tell me about how you've given up drinking for yoga."

True story.

... The yoga bit.

... Not the Hustle part.

Actually let me backtrack. This is why I was a steadfast proponent of 'Headphones in, boys'.

I've had two experiences over the last month or so that have made me decide to embrace the random conversations and experiences you can have by not stubbornly listening to Chris Cornell with hands shoved deep in your coat pockets, walking with a purpose and keeping eyes locked on an indeterminate point ahead of you. Or being engrossed in a book if you're sat somewhere. Or 'sleeping' on the Tube. All of which are sound strategies by the way.

Experience number one: Bernie Spain Gardens, South Bank London
Think of London and what do you think of? No doubt a city, full of people, noise, cars, etc etc etc. Typical urban savannah: a world of vice and culture at your coffee-stained fingertips.

Boys and girls, I lay at your feet for consideration: Bernie Spain Gardens.

I've walked past this little spot on South Bank, right next to the OXO Tower, many a time. Invariably I'm with someone or if on my own have my headphones in.

Wandering from Tower Bridge, west along the South side of the river one evening after work, I decided to pull the headphones out and turn off the music.

I was suddenly struck by something I don't think I'd ever experienced in London before. I could hear the Thames washing up against the bank of the river below. I couldn't hear any traffic. The people around me were all strolling. It doesn't last for long as you keep walking west, which makes it that much more striking. Sat on a bench looking down the River feeling peaceful and content, I realised that if I'd had my headphones in I'd have walked straight through and missed it.

So experience number one: London isn't just a city of blaring noise. Take the headphones out and have a listen whilst you're walking around. You may just be pleasantly surprised.

Experience number two: The Cafe at Foyles Bookstore, Charing Cross Road
Anyone who hasn't been here, put down whatever you're doing now, pick your preferred mode of transport and go. Now. Unless you're doing something incredibly important. Like surgery. In which case you shouldn't be reading this in the first place. You awful, awful person.

A few weeks back I'd camped out in The Cafe at Foyles to read through a friend's novel for them. It's the perfect place for this sort of thing: you can stay there for a whole day without being disturbed having bought nothing but a mug of tea, there's free wifi and a nice little buzz. Plus you're just ten long strides away from book paradise. Of course, the headphones were in to save being distracted.

Novel finished (very, very good by the way) and two hours to waste before meeting another friend for dinner. At some point during the afternoon the two men sat opposite me, who don't know each other, have struck up a lively conversation. Curious, the headphones come out.

One is endorsing the legalisation of all drugs. The other is gamely probing the holes in his argument. The conversation keeps going off on tangents about anything and everything: society, politics, the booze culture in Britain. It's too good to not join in.

The two hours fly by in a blur of lively debate, each of us respecting the others' opinion and not being afraid to put forward what we actually think, protected by the anonymity of being nameless strangers. As we become aware of the buzz having died down around us, I realise it's fast approaching 9 in the evening and I'm due to meet my friend in St Paul's soon. I say my goodbyes and pack up.

So experience number two: Embrace conversations with strangers in coffee shops, or in fact anywhere else. Despite the fear that you're going to end up talking to someone who's two wheels short of a bicycle, you may actually end up enjoying it. And looking back, the majority of random conversations I've had on the Tube, in museums, in coffee shops, trains, coaches and a multitude of other places have all been interesting. No-one's tried to kidnap me, sell me anything, or save my soul.

So a new lesson for l'art de vivre: Headphones out, boys.