Parking outside Scusi at 7.30, the local homeless person says “Morning Madam, I clean your car for you, sparkle sparkle.” Fuck no. No. I don’t need a sparkling car. I can’t be kind, so early in the morning. I yell at him, step over the next homeless guy, dodge the doiley seller, and sit down at my usual table. Good coffee, and I manage to ignore the blind kid selling trinkets. I drink, pay, tip the waiter – double - and leave.
And then back to my car. By this time the car guards are all on duty. Even though we’re in the suburbs, with zero traffic. I get directed out into the street, wind down my window, hand over some cash, say “thank you” for something I didn’t need, and head back home.
And waiting at my doorstep are the broom-sellers. “My Madam, nice feather duster, special price for you…”. Oh. I was his Madam. What was I supposed to feel about that? A warm glow of pride? And I'd bought a broom from him yesterday, and a feather duster the day before. So unless I’m opening a cleaning store, I don’t need another one. “Not today guys, thanks”. I sigh, handing over a little cash, knowing the request for small change is coming. And dash indoors, thinking I’m safe.
I settle down in front of my computer. Apart from the many emails asking for my bank details (yes, yes - I’ve won the lottery, again), the phone rings a few times. This haven, that haven - all asking for donations. It’s really hard to say no. But I manage. Quite well, actually. “Not this time, call me again in a year…”.
Phew. I’ve survived another day in the suburbs. After all that, I need to calm my nerves. I know, I’ll head out back to my favourite coffee shop. Parking outside Scusi at 10.30, the local homeless person says “Morning Madam, I clean your car for you, sparkle sparkle……

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