Had I been a couple of feet closer to the passageway, the man who emerged backwards carrying a long rake could have decapitated me. I should have paid more attention when I first saw the broom and hosepipe stacked up against the wall on Melgund Terrace, Edinburgh.
I wondered whether the man was an immigrant street cleaner. The city streets could certainly do with some attention at the height of summer. When I asked him, he told me that he was indeed currently employed in this minimum wage role, but was also looking for work more suited to his qualifications as a civil engineer. He then used his professional knowledge to examine the structure of my bra, concluding that it was unsuitable for my ample bosom.
A squad of police officers brought our conversation to a sudden halt. Their fearsome female boss told me the shocking news that my new friend was an illegal immigrant from Nigeria and due to be deported.
I made a dash for my friend Leah at the council. She had the skills and knowledge to deal with this situation. However, she was sorry to tell me that she had no influence whatsoever on deportation cases such as this. Even if she did, she was far too busy to help.
Dreamaticus 