now you don't see that every day

A new experience at lunchtime. I saw, in broad daylight and opposite the cafe I was in and the pub I was not, a woman urinating in the street. As I gazed from my window seat at the world going by I saw, on the opposite footpath, what looked like a woman squatting down beside a small dog, maybe a jack russel. Then, in an all-too-real-unreal dream-nightmare slow-motion sequence the realisation dawned. What looked like an arse crack poking out from beneath an up-hitched skirt was an arse crack, and from somewhere just in front of this crack was the unmistakable cascade of a piss in progress. Seemingly unfazed she finished, hitched up her draws, straightened her skirt, picked up the bag that had looked like a small dog and wandered on. As if nothing had happened. Paula Radcliffe all over again. Only without the athleticism or attention of the worlds media.