Sep 14

My day began with a stranger’s dandruff on my shoulder.

Seriously. That’s what happened. There I was trying not to cry while reading Cathy Cassidy’s Cherry Crush (entirely gorgeous – I really loved it) and this big guy came and squished into the seat next to me on the train.

So unnecessary.

I’d caught the 6.04 a.m. from my village and THERE WAS PLENTY OF SPACE, DUDE. But nooo . . . he squishes in . . . and then he gives his head a good scratch.


Dandruff everywhere – everywhere! – but mostly on my shoulders.

Possibly even in my hair.

NOOOOOO! Total outrage! Ordinarily I’d have made him feel the wrath that is Angry Me, but I was all choked up and in Cathy’s chocolate-box world. Lucky for him, otherwise I would have said, ‘Whoa,’ in a menacing voice, brushed my shoulders free of his diseased scalpy bits and stared at him with crazed and bulgy eyes until he moved off. Or, Plan B, gone, ‘No. Way.’ And gone to sit somewhere else while giving him the look of slow and agonising death that is my particular speciality.

Maybe I’ll see him again tomorrow . . .

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