The day had been hot and dusty with a terrible easterly wind kicking up small dust devils every few seconds, or so it seemed to her. Until she'd dug out her scarf, her hair had blown six ways to Sunday, all knotted and tangled up. When she did find her scarf, she didn't even try to comb it out. She just gathered the long hanks of red-going-grey tresses and stuffed them up in it, tying it off tight up on top of her head like her mother had done with a big kerchief whilst cleaning house when she was a little girl. With her long duster coat and combat boots she was frightful enough to scare the bejaysus of the horse when she came round the corner to her car. He ran off, kicking up his hooves, snorting at the wild weather and her.

Normally she wouldn't set foot outside the house which burrowed into the side of a hill; itself safe and secure from the whipping winds. But, today, of all days, she had to go out. She'd caught a bug and there was nothing for it but to go get a fix.