Within reason.

Yesterday morning started off well. While wandering through my hometown I saw:
A pirate, with long wavy hair, an almost beard, and a pirate shirt tucked into brown trousers. A little kid with a stegosaurus tshirt on, wearing a blue cape. A young guy doing his weekly shop on roller blades. A handbag made out of pompoms. An elderly lady in full goth gear, with black and red hair and many studs on her outfit. A nervous, geeky-looking guy, with an overbearing father, who was wearing a pink shrt and a fluorescent yellow and pink flowery tie. And countless mothers and daughters going shopping together (Did I miss something? Was it mother-and-daughter shopping day yesterday?). And got introduced to a little Café on Broad Street that does amazing coffee for about half the normal price. A good morning indeed.

I see people.

Sometimes I see people I know I shouldn't. Taylor Swift was visiting a house on a street near mine. A dark-skinned Ramona Flowers passed me in town, her pink hair vibrant against a black hoodie, a blue canvas bag over one shoulder, and Scott Pilgrim himself cycled past me only a few weeks ago, a striped beanie covering his curls. I've seen a blue-haired Singer on the streets of Oxford City, and one of the Inelesi in a back alley, his lumbering gait and translucent skin impossible to disguise. A slim, long haired Tolkien elf was in front of me in a super market queue. Little Red Riding Hood as a child has skipped past, holding onto an elderly woman's hand. Sometimes I even can see the Ford Prefects of this world. A slightly too intense gaze, or a reaction to normality that is unexpected, and suddenly... I can see it. And I know I shouldn't be able to.

Invasion.

Sitting in my room, in the middle of the floor, and suddenly the house feels so big... Like a cereal box that's nearly finished, or a cupboard cleared of clothes for a holiday, or, well, a house emptied of all the extra people. Only 24 hours. Sitting in my room and it's hard to believe that the abnormal, once-in-a-lifetime, thoroughly bewildering event actually ever happened.
Mum's old pen pal has been and gone. The family of seven that followed her like a band of ducklings have been, eaten, slept, talked, and gone. The moment I walked in through the door to a kitchen full of strangers to the moment they piled into their van again and were gone seems like a lifetime ago. An influx of unknown bodies, a rush of German words, a museum-collection of mattresses, clothes and belongings, and then suddenly it's all over...
I think I managed about ten German words. Oops.