Trout Woman

 On the Canterbury campsite, we sometimes hand-washed our clothes, leaving them to dry outside:

We sometimes had to do this because a Trout Woman tried to monopolise the washing and drying machines on the campsite.

One morning, our clothes were still not dry in the tree, so we went to the campsite washroom, and there She stood, arms crossed with bulging eyes and wide-open mouth, her 10-year-old son replicating the facial pose:

      "Morning, it's a nice day, isn't it?" 

      - No response

      "Ah well, let's get these drying machines on, it won't take long".

The Trout Woman's face was now a 'pretty picture', bright red with flabby rage, her young son exactly the same. They wanted the washroom to themselves, unused drying machines and all.

At this moment, a nice old man entered the washroom:

      "Hi lads, alright love, you don't mind if I do a hand-wash, do you? As all the washing 

      machines are being used".

The Trout Woman's eyes bulged out further, smoke bellowed out of her ears, but still no words exited her mouth. 

In a second or two, the Trout Woman and her son trudged outside.

The nice old man was from Canvey Island.

He told us about his years of watching West Ham. He'd also been a shop steward. 

He had a story to tell, time to chat. 

He had some social skills.