She waddled up to me, frowning.
“Emma?” No, I’m not Emma.
“Chris’ fiancée?” Nope. “I’m sure you’re Emma.” Nope, again.
“I swear you look just like Emma!” Well, I’m definitely not Emma. I assured her of this in the nicest way possible. Hoping she understood and wasn’t an escapee from Broadmoor.
Then she went on to talk to me about everything & anything in her life. Clearly deranged, she kept coming back to the fact that I looked like this ‘Emma’ character as though I was the one who’d got it wrong..
This woman, we’ll call her Sue, looked like she’d been kicked off the Jeremy Kyle Show. She wore tattered Reebok classics, joggers, an Elessee jumper that had brown stains down the front and a beige fleece that was 10 sizes too big for her. She seemed a nice enough old lady so I stood & chatted while I waited for the bus (which was late..again!).
She told me all about her son’s phone and how O2 messed his contract up so she’d had to send it back and what a huge polava it was. Bless her. I’m not gonna lie, the whole situation made me feel a little uncomfortable. She had odd earrings that were green around the lobe and she had these massive gold sovereign rings and necklaces. Her hair was scraped back and laqcuered from her face and was all tatty at the ends. I felt for her.. clearly she was a couple of sandwiches short of a picnic and all I could think was ‘this is someone’s Nan.’
I wasn’t going to be rude and I couldn’t see any harm in chatting to her. She’s probably couped up all day with her gangster husband who smoked cigars and drank during the day with her delinquent son who wore a tag (yes, she told me about that too!).
Then when she said (pointing out one of her staffys) “she’s getting old this one, can hardly make it on our walks. I think she’s been mounted too cos she’s walkin all funny” I thanked whoever was up there that the bus was in sight. I have nothing to say, when it comes to doggy style!!
I’m all for neighbourly bonding but there’s gotta be a line. And that was it.
But I can’t help thinking about if she’d approached someone else in the street, perhaps someone less understanding (a yob). It’s frightening to think that there are people out there that can’t show compassion for an elderly lady with mental problems. So, I suppose, that I’m glad she came and shared bits of her life with me…in a way. And I hope that she felt a little bit better for it.