This morning, cafe, no Mark, but it's full, Big City Blonde and her coterie and I'm sat next to Loon.
I've mentioned her before, never spoken a word to her but trawled Facebook and discovered her postings.
Wing-Nut extraordinaire.
So, after watching her struggle with her phone for a bit and then cycle off, in a mood, and I'm never sure where the line between mental illness and just crazy begins.
But now, at the library, 11 minutes to go on the Apple and I trawl her Facebook again. She's posting more of her remedies:
The parasites, of course, are her intrusive thoughts, and while I'm sure if you drank enough turpentine they'd go away I'm not sure that's the cure anyone is looking for...