Lunchtime

I gasped in amazement as not one, not two, not three, but six lifts sailed past the floor on which I was awaiting a lift.

I used bad words at the tiger trap that refused to grant me entrance in order for me to seek exit from building.

I stumbled out of the building simultaneously entertaining many different thoughts of an essentially trivial and lunchtime-ish nature, and even simulataneously diving into my handbag to extricate cigarettes and lighter which I magically combined in a functional manner whilst marvelling at my failure to set alight my hair which was waving madly in the swirly but not unpleasant breeze; my hair which has been having a bad day all day.

I looked up and realised I was walking directly into the path of a TV News camera which was recording a reporter's 'to-camera' piece.

I turned and scurried away, determined not even to work out which news organisation it was...

(Short, fat, dark preposterously blustery hair, blue-and-white speckled trouser suit, pale blue top, sunglasses, cigarette...)