Classic situations of social awkwardness (meeting primary school headmaster at funeral)

I am having some difficulty parsing this sentence. Is this deputy head a woman? Who had a bald patch? And kept feeling up her own breasts?

I had a piano teacher when I was a kid in the 1980s. She was ancient. She was patient 90% of the team until those 10% white-hot flashes of KEEP YOUR WRISTS OFF THE KEYS. But seriously she was like 100 or something…

… or so I thought until my grandmother died in 2005 and the piano teacher came to the funeral. She was still ancient (for a 125-year-old, amirite?) But it made me reconsider what ancient was.

Houses are bigger, playgrounds are more spacious, piano teachers are practically mummies. It's gonna get scary in a few years when decades start passing by in flashes.

I am so fucking shit at maintaining the necessary veneer of "ah you know yourself" and "yes indeed you total cunt" that is required for polite cyclical small talk with those I've not seen for ages...it's like I've just lost some essential will that brings these phrases forth.

I met an ex-colleague in the pub a few weeks ago and she was asking about my job and I was so incapable of formulating the banal necessary responses that I sensed she became genuinely worried.

The process continued to a point where I just paused and almost froze and said "........yeah". I don't even dislike or anything, I just couldn't form the words, or think of a solitary thing to say in response.

"I met an ex-colleague in the pub a few weeks ago and she was asking about my job and I was so incapable of formulating the banal necessary responses that I sensed she became genuinely worried.

The process continued to a point where I just paused and almost froze and said "........yeah".

....and then, nine months later, son, that's when you were born.

haha

my grandad is 92 and despite his sprightliness looks 92. last night i was looking at old family photos, and there he is, my now 40-year-old brother an infant in his arms, looking EXACTLY THE SAME.

i'm an atrocious small talker. don't know how to do it. find myself staring blankly like a psychopath while i run through possible responses in my head. that's a childhood full of overprotective parenting for ya, i guess.

i love small talk. He went so quick in the end vs i blame the parents vs what more would ya want, surely

I'm glad I did because he revealed he'd left his wife for our deputy head, who had a bald patch and kept absent-mindedly feeling her breasts up in assembly.

I think this still requires an explanation.

agreed