Mad Lady (3)

I took this picture of TTW this morning. As mentioned here and there I did it "from behind", "one handed" and "at speed". None of this stopped her noticing and turning round to scowl at me. It's not a perfect picture, a little blurred I admit, but under the circumstances I feel I've captured her mien pretty well. I apologise if you recognise the poor woman and are offended. Perhaps she's an Aunt of yours?


This time she said nothing to me. Perhaps no suitable profanity sprung to mind even to one so seasoned in such matters. Instead, despite the fact that I was by now some distance past her, she spat at me. Not your average spit this but one, I imagine, infused with continuous breakfasting on egg and jam bound together gelatinously with the devil's own BILE. It landed thunderously on my back its bilious greeny-yellowness almost perfectly camouflaged by my high-viz jacket. I no longer own this jacket.

Of course, people who suffer from Tourrettes Syndrome are given to spitting. Maybe that's why she spat. More likely she just hates me.