Compassion Overload

Just a quick post before I slap on the Orange and put on a smiley face.

I was walking into work yesterday. It takes me about 15 mins, if I hurry, 20 mins if I'm strolling. Not that I've strolled for ages. I seem to be permanently late these days, despite my best intentions and efforts. The good thing about that is that it takes me 10 mins to become Orange Woman, where it used to take me 20.

My route takes me into an underpass, which usually has a homeless person, usually a bloke. I think they must take turns with the patch and have a rota all figured out. Because there's only ever one at a time and I recognise them all now. Anyway, picture the scene:

Homeless bloke sitting cross-legged on a knackered sleeping bag, golden lab curled up nose under tail so it doesn't have to smell the alcoholic urine from the night before. There's a hat with a few coppers sprinkled in. His head comes up from his chest, he makes eye contact 'any spare change miss?'. I shake my head, but as I'm saying no, the most obnoxious ringtone blares from his coat pocket. Out comes one of the most expensive mobile phones I've seen bar an iPhone, and he starts chatting away like he's a stock broker!