Bag Lady

I'm standing in the stairwell of a block of local council flats, trying to decipher the graffiti-strewn piss-streaked walls as I wait for a friend. An old woman puffs and pants her way around the corner carrying two huge bags the size of small children; and by the witch-like look of her they might quite possibly be small children. Would you like some help? I ask. No, she wheezes, I'm... doing... just... fine. She takes a pause, puts her bags down and breaks into a coughing fit. I look at her from 20 stairs up and hope no-one walks in to witness my dischivalry. I've just saved two lives, she says. I look again at the bags and try to think when the last time I saw Hansel and Gretel was. Really? I say. The ground fails to open. It's just something I do, she replies dismissively. I look at her again, trying to spot a cape on her back or pants over her tights; nope, she definitely doesn't look like the superhero type. There's nothing but dead air separating us now, I try to small talk: How did you do that then? She looks from side to side and decides to confide; Hot water bottles! She winks at me. I stand unmoved. I told two tramps about hot water bottles. Still she waits for my reaction. Seeing none she shakes her head, and as if explaining to a two year old says: 140 tramps have died in Poland from this wind! No hot water bottles! But if we get the word around, we might just save some of ours!! Just as I am about to ask how the homeless might fill and boil, nevermind purchase these kettles, the door opens and my friend arrives. He takes one look at the woman and decides to get the lift.