Did you mean Lebanese?

Walking home from the train last night, wrapped up in a million thoughts, enjoying the setting sun and the clean smelling air.

I had stopped to watch a blackbird perch on a fence with a small floppy worm hanging from its bill.

Around the bend came two pretty girls walking in my direction. They were dressed like they were headed out on the town--eye makeup, dangly earings, heels. They were maybe 20--could have been younger.

"Lesbian!" one of them spat at me as we passed each other.

I stopped and turned around, but they didn't look back.

Did I hear right?

No, it was unmistakeable. One of them called me a lesbian!

Mind you, it's not that I care if anyone thinks I'm a lesbian. It's that some snotty kid, in my own damn village, desired to insult me, as she clearly meant it as an insult. She could have said librarian or soccer mom, doesn't matter. It was said in a vicious spirit.

I was pretty taken aback. A, I didn't think people behaved like that here. And B, it's 2007 and this is suburban London for God's sake. Are these girls so sheltered they feel threatened by a 5'4" birdwatching lesbian carrying home groceries at 9pm?

No matter. A few hundred yards later a fox darted out in front of me from a hedgerow set close to the road. He was brindley, and so thin! He may have been a juvenile--he had big paws and reminded me of a puppy that's yet to grow into his. We locked eyes and both of us stopped, staring at each other for about 3 seconds. Then he darted for cover. Scott later commented that he probably thought I was gay.