Honest to goodness, I am a magnet to people who are weird, odd, a bit Touched and those who smell a bit too much due to forgetting they had a bathroom because the aliens have stolen their brain.
Case in point, this morning:
Lizzy happily walking along Lower Regent Street, minding her own business when tiny small woman edges into her path. Lizzy steps past woman, lengthening her stride, to get past her as she is conscious of the fact that she should get to the office ASAP. Lizzy's bag jostles little woman's several bags as she is sipping her double late moccachino skinny espresso. Lizzy apologises, does not think anything more about it, and walks on. Little woman, clearly in the mood to pick a fight, storms up, jostles Lizzy and bag and starts shouting "next time you fucking touch me..." and I stop and stare at her. Jaw dropped, smacked in the gob by this display of bunny boiler psycosis. I blink, stupidly, nod my head and listen to her rant and say smartly "shut up you stupid psycho bitch" or something in those lines and literally run across the street in case whatever she has is catching. To my regret as I would have loved to have found out the rest of her tirade...I only heard a few bits of it as I was listening to Linkin Park on my stereo headphones and could see her mouth opening and closing like those of a fish...called Bob.
It was bizarre. It left me seriously frazzled though as the sheer look of distate and - dare I say it - hatred that shimmered in her eyes really left me quaking. I kid you not. You expect odd behaviour like that from unwell people...I choose to think that she didn't take her Calmets this morning...or forgot her Bach Flower remedy and her fragile state was pounded on by a nasty train journey, or whatever. I really feel sorry for whoever she works with, whoever she is married to. All I can say is, in the words of the inimitable Little Britain chap - eeeeeh eeeeh.
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