November Feet.
© Natasha Newton 2008
Today I went for a little walk around the village. It was a nice afternoon and so I thought it would be a good idea to get some exercise before the weather gets a lot colder later this week - I heard we might have snow at the weekend. Let's hope so! Anyway, I took my Polaroid camera with me and used up the last two photos. The first photo didn't turn out as well as I'd hoped, mainly due to a grumpy old git of a man making me feel ill at ease while taking it. I was walking down a little path and spied an interesting old window. This window had densely-patterned glass; there was no way I could see into it, and I very much doubt anyone inside the place could have seen out of it, so I felt safe to take a photo without disturbing anybody.
I sensed a man looking at me. In fact, he was making no attempt to hide the fact that he was staring at me (I hate that - if people are going to stare, they could at least have the decency to *pretend* that they're not). I felt so uncomfortable that I took the photo much more quickly than I would have liked, and as a result I messed it up. Not a good thing when Polaroids cost roughly £1.00 per photo. Anyway, I turned away and carried on down the path. At this point the man was nowhere to be seen.
Then I hear, "Hello...HELLO!"
I think: Is he talking to me? (I still can't see him).
So I stop.
Then he appears. Middle-aged, middle-class, bad attitude.
He asks, somewhat sarcastically, and somewhat aggressively, with that booming voice beloved of people who are full of their own self-importance, "Something interesting??"
So I say, "Well, it's just a very nice old window."
I want to say: Are you usually this rude to people you've never met before?
Because I really just can't stand rudeness. I think manners are very important, and I especially think that a tall middle-aged man, when approaching a young woman on her own down a quiet country pathway, should show a little more consideration and respect. Instead of being an aggressive asshole.
Anyway, he's really ruffled my feathers up the wrong way, and while I'm thinking about what to say, he starts backtracking and trying to be remotely pleasant. Because obviously by this point he's figured out that I am just a girl with a camera, and not a gangsta from the 'hood who's come to blast him to bits with my shotgun while looting his house.
"Oh," he says, "I was just curious..."
Bit too late to start being pleasant, mate. How about next time you try being pleasant to someone when you first approach them, rather than shouting at them in an accusatory tone.
I gave him a withering look (I'm quite good at those, given the right circumstances), and then walked off to photograph my feet.
