who's that girl?

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Every Friday morning I see the same young lady in Costa. I say young, but in all actuality she's probably verging on middle age; those occasional grey strands in her otherwise dyed hair give the game away. Her style of clothing is young though. Can mutton still dress as lamb in contemporary society, or do we forget to pigeon-hole and stereotype now? She sits with her tablet, tip-tapping away {maybe she's writing a novel} and supping from her take-away cup. Cappuccino? Latte? Hot chocolate? She looks like a latte lover, probably with a syrupy flavour of sugary goodness. She talks to no-one, except the chap who asks what she wants, and she refuses to look at any other customers as she heads for an empty table from which she can watch the world. And she does watch the world, pausing briefly from her tippity-taps. Gathering ideas? She is currently smirking at the youngish lady with the bare legs. I imagine she's thinking, Um, it's winter love. Put some clothes on! Alas, it is that time where she gets up and goes. Where is she heading to? Not work, she's too relaxed. Shopping? To spend the day in some seedy hotel with her lover? Maybe she's babysitting her Baby Niece? Off she trots ... bye-bye!