What a strange sight this morning. I opened my curtains at 7.30am to see a woman, in her thirties maybe, standing in the street wearing her dressing gown and a pair of trainers. It was a bit chilly so she was clutching the pink towelling robe with red hearts all over it, tightly to her chest.
Then the post man showed up. He parks his car in front of my house and the bags of post are dropped off there by the van. He had collected his bike from further up the street and was loading it up, when he pulled out a couple of letters and handed them to her. The woman then frantically ripped the envelopes open and scanned the contents, then she comes over all emotional and wiped the tears from her face. They spent the next 20 minutes chatting, the postie in his full cold weather gear, and her shivering in her night wear. By the time he rode off on his bike her mood had changed, as if the shock of the news she had just read about had completely slipped her mind. Now she was all smiles.
I put the kettle on, wondering what the little drama was all about. My very own soap opera through the window. Oh well, spose I'll have to guess the end of the story.
Cycle touring Festival
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