…What I wouldn’t have given to have tired of you…
Dreads on people are a statement. Dreads on old, white women are a worrying one. Finding one such lady, bent-double with her baggy bleached denim jeans and garish patchwork cardigan, blocking my path in the food aisle of my local Tescos, I knew to approach with caution. Slowly I side-stepped around her, careful not to alert her to my presence with any sudden movements. And just as I had managed to reach the safety of Loyd Grossman’s pasta sauces, she startled me with an avalanche of muttering, growls and skittish laughter. I turned around to try and fathom what she was asking me, but she wasn’t looking at me. Instead she was resolutely squinting at the row of assorted jars of curry sauces in front of her whilst having a full blown conversation with herself. No bluetooth device nestled in her ear + oblivious to me + clearly by herself = crazy old lady. And that was the moment of horrifying self-realisation. I was that lady. I too had been having full blown conversations with myself…on the internet. My name is Susan and I’m a serial blogger.