I am driving a red Citröen 2CV.
It has a yellow badge on it in the same place you would find one on a Ferrari. But the problem with French cars is they are mainly constructed from old Coca-Cola cans and corrugated cardboard.
I change gear.
The gearstick is a strange L-shaped affair protruding from the centre of the dashboard. Grinding to a halt is an apt metaphor for coming to a stop in this car.
I have earmarked a rather rotund woman at the bus stop as my victim. My goal here, is to give away money.
Human beings are crazy when it comes to money. And we live as if it is something which is very real. But money is really no different to inches or any other measurement system. Of course, you may have difficulty in giving inches away.
I am stopped now by the side of the road, my heart is pounding. I am attached to this particular £10 note like it were one of my offspring. I’m late, very late. The deed needs to be done and it needs to be done now. I leap from the car and start running.
As I approach the woman I hold the £10 note out in front of me. “Excuse me” I say, “can I give you this please.” She is recoiling in horror. “No, no, get away. What do you want?”
“I want to give you this.” I try and explain, but she is already frightened out of her wits. She really does look like she’s about to break into a run, which is impressive, because she is sitting down.
I’m slightly bewildered at her unwillingness to accept my money. Then thankfully a little old man comes to my rescue.
“Is that real?” he asks.
“Yes of course it is.” I say, quickly adding “do you want it?”
We make the exchange, his old eyes less suspicious than the rotund woman’s.
I thank him.
I can see the question “why?” forming on his lips and I take this as my cue to get back in my car and drive away.
See you on the other side of the looking glass,
Anurajyati (be in love!)
Mark Ty Wharton