The other night, as is sometimes my habit, I had half a something whilst waiting for the bus (there’s an establishment opposite the bus stop). I wanted to enjoy it with a podcast in my ears but then I saw a man sitting on his own on another picnic bench a few metres away from me. So I lukewarmly ambled over, and asked if he minded company, he said no. I told him I was working in the area, he told me he was a scientist and we then shared mutual mid-Wales contacts. That’s one nice thing about small town life, everyone knows everyone.
Then his mate came and sat with us, a builder. We got talking about wells—a point of interest on my current project—so the three of us are talking about wells, and I know I need to mention living water à la Ali Begg at some point, but I keep missing the chance (like when you play skipping in the playground and you have to jump in, but are too scared to)!
Then another bloke arrives and I recognise his face, starts chatting independently of me, then he introduces himself, I should have done so before that (for some reason I’ve got it into my head that only Christians introduce themselves and that unbelievers do things more organically. What!?) We realise that this third bloke has seen me in a play, he took a photos of us after the show. Although it becomes apparent that he thinks I’m someone else who was in another play that I was not in. I know this because he proceeds to tell the whole table that he’s seen me perform an explicit act on stage. I’m not the guy! Different play. Different scene. Oh dear.
And before I know it my bus comes. No Jesus mentioned. I regret the omissions, and the false accusations, but I value the contacts made, maybe something to build on. Tough stuff.