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I’d like to know why young girls in the 11-13 age group stare at me. It happens quite a lot, you know; it happened again today in Tesco. I don’t stare at them so why do they stare at me? I glance in their direction occasionally just to see whether they’re still staring, and they always are. I can only theorise that they’ve reached that state in their emotional development where some aspect of intuition is awakening, and they’re driven to study the male animal in order to find clues as to how they might destroy it and hang it on the wall when the time comes. The infamous Mary Davies comes to mind (see earlier blog posts.) It occurs to me that she must have been in the 11-13 age group a few years before hanging me out to dry.
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And I’m still intrigued as to who owns the hand which waves in my direction from the Lady B’s car when it drives past me in the lane. It happened again this afternoon. That’s twice in the space of six days, and I’m wondering whether it’s some sort of device you can buy in Halfords.
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