Tuesday, 1 July 2008


Her arms were huge and overwhelming as she lunged forward to embrace me in her bright yellow jacket. She was a beautiful welcoming beaming sun, bursting towards me, like I was her dearest friend. In her golden aura, a part of me was drawn to being embraced by such generous limbs in the anonymous space of the high street.

But she was a mugger, a chugger, a what-do-you-call-it? A charity fundraiser. Out on the street, her hugs come with strings attached. 

As her logo came into focus, as I caught the faintest hint of her neroli perfume, I made an impulsive swift dodge under her left arm and wrong footed her in the style of the best rugby forwards. I left her bemused, talking to herself and stroking her hair back into place.