Psychotic Sally

Psychotic Sally, that's what we used to call her.
Allow me to explain.
About three years ago at this time of year, it was really pissing down one day, not much changed there then.
So; I had just moved into the flat on Southwick road and it was located above a shop, Marie McMahon's to be precise. I know Marie and her family all of our lives.
Outside of my front door was a bus stop and on the day in question I was going into the flat and there was a woman standing, huddled really at the bus stop, in the rain, looking the worse for wear. She looked like she was on her last legs in fact.
I remember asking, "Are you alright?"
"I'm freezing," says she pathetically.
"Here," I say opening the front door. "Come and have a hot drink."
Anyway, took her in, gave her a hot drink and let her warm up. Skinny little thing, mid fifties and she was never going to win any beauty contests.
That was it really, she got the bus and was gone from my life, or so I thought.
Next morning at seven bells the dog wakes me up barking, someone is at the front door. I go down to have a look, not best pleased. It is the human disaster from the day before and she has got a daily paper with her.
"I got you the paper," says she.
Anyway, I tell her politely that I don't want her knocking on my door at seven in the morning and she tells me she has no friends. Not my fault so I send her on her way and tell her not to come back.
She stalked me. Hanging around in Marie's shop, following me around the Green and stuff like that. I told my probation officer I had a stalker and that was that.
Well, I don't live there anymore but psychotic Sally (as I called her) doesn't know that. She is still loitering at the bus stop, the sad sod.
Oh yeah, I have still got the magnetism for the wierd and the wonderful, ask psychotic Sally.