Constance

An exaggerated wave at the Tate Modern causes a stir.  Directed to attract the attention of a friend, two girls hovering over the donations box think it is for them.  I apologise for the misunderstanding but make use of the opportunity.  One of the girls, with blonde hair, raises both her hands with enthusiasm to answer my question.  'Thank you', I say.  And add, by accident, 'Are you constant?'.  'It's my granny's name so don't make fun of it', she warns.  I tell her I won't and turn to greet the original object of my gesticulation.