The Head

I was a little amazed to see this lady in Cork today. When I was working in Cork city almost twenty years ago she would come into us most days, always belligerent. She would ask for something, but nothing would satisfy, until she would ask loudly and repeatedly for The Head...meaning whoever was in charge. Sometimes on the street she would cross slowly, stopping midway to goad drivers with her walking stick.
Her progress on Patrick's Street today was painfully slow with a walking frame, but dressed in sneakers beneath a fur coat and beret, there was still a glint in the eye. Still awaiting imaginary slights, all in the head.
A few more here.