Bruise pristine 2

As mentioned previously, I come from a teeny tiny rural backwater, where any venture outdoors initiates a flurry of heads peeping round doors and lacy curtains, and the necessity of making idle conversation with at least one of the neighbours, and this is a hard habit to absolve- I've lived in London for over a year under the guise of doing studenty things, and I still find myself expecting to have to exchange pointless pleasantries with a chance aquaintance, but it turns out my paranoia with regards to visits to Ann Summers and the like isn't entirely unfounded; one of my many very distant relations has apparently caught sight of me and the Bruise ("doing what", I clamour to ask, but I'm scared of the answer), and decided to call my parents and share this information. Which brought on the following conversation with my mother-

"Have you been involved in those riots Imogen?"
"What riots?"
"The riots that have been on the news!"
"Oh. Those riots. Erm, no- Mum? I don't go to uni in Birmingham, I live in London."
"So?"
"So, um, no, I wasn't there?"

OK, so my mother scares me. But I haven't been involved in any riots or political marches, or anthing else that might involve close contact with other people- no, not even that.