I am sitting in that little organic bread bar in the leafy stretch of South Dowling Street with Hubba Bubba and a double shot Latte. I'd like to say I am minding my own business but - I am not. I never really do I've realised. People are enchanting, watching them, listening to their interactions with other people. I find it all fascinating. A women walks in. She is a little older than me, on her own, smartly dressed, buying bread she has collected and put in a brown paper bag from the bread boxes beside me. I am staring (unaware at this point that I am doing so). She is not unaware of this and looks over, smiles and asks whether I am waiting to order. I smile sheepishly and fumble with an excuse 'No, no, sorry, I'm in another place this morning, just staring into space, sorry.'
Ugh, I've never been completed sprung in the throws of 'people watching' or if I have never confronted about it. I will need to revisit my observation strategies to avoid appearing a stalker I feel.
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