Before I knew what was happening it was too late. I waved my arms, I called out, I pulled a face that sat somewhere between alarm and despair, but it was to no avail. He had started and he wasn’t going to stop. There was no turning back. He was going to press on regardless. Having reached the point of no return, there was little I could do other than make sure the doors were locked and hope that the lights would change. Call it an over-reaction; I simply didn’t want anyone to clean my windscreen.
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