GYPSY CAMP

So, It's Friday and I set out on the 2 mile walk from my brother's house, along what might be considered a country lane, to the train station. I'm about half way when I spot this side road break off and end abruptly infront of some garages that seem to be housing carivans. Now, I did consider the likelihood that this could infact be gypsies, but all I could see was the large amount of rubbish my side of the carivans. I decided that it was safe enough as I could be seen from the main road and went in. I has just taken my last shot when I heard someone furiously beeping their horn. I looked up to discover a dirty white Ford Escort screeching towards me, full of people. The occupants all jumped out of the vehicle before the brakes were fully applied without fear of life; and without hesitation started hurling questions and acusation in my face. "Who are you?" "What are you doing here?" "Who sent you?" "What newspaper sent you?" all in thick none coherent accents. I surprisingly remained calm and explained that I didn't work for anyone and simply enjoyed photographing rubbish. Now you can imagine this took some convincing. After everyone had taken a step back, it appears that my sex saved me. Through their garbbled rambling I heard "You're O.K." "You're safe" "You're a lass." They also revealed through their ranting and raving that a kid was recently injured/died plaing in the rubbish that I found so appealing. I left "Tut suite" with the prmise never to return.