Classically, the eccentric is a hermit. They live alone, in their odd little laboratory or hovel with a shock of white hair surrounding their wrinkled face. They stare out at the world through tiny windows to match their tiny sunken eyes. They are stick thin, probably from walking their particularly tiny dog and eating like a bird on a diet. They obsess and they fuss over something in particular, usually something scientific or engineerlike.
My Aunt Erica though… Thirty years old and as round as she is tall, she constantly grins and beams at the crowds of people in West Chipping as she makes her way through the town. Her brown hair with its gentle wave flows behind her as she winds through the streets on her unicycle. I think the weight probably helps her to balance, but then again, I have no idea. She blows kisses to everything she passes, be it alive, dead or inanimate object, and wears that consistent smile showing as many of her teeth as can escape at a time. Not a wrinkle in sight, either. It’s as if she read the description and decided to be a crossbow bolt through its heart. Unsurprising, seeing as she carries a functioning crossbow with her. She says its for the Rapture.
To be honest, she’s a bit weird. But you’ve got to love her.
So, 400 days to go including today, as long as I’ve got my counting right. I’ve had my minor issues, but I’m still getting there.
The Idiot in Tin Foil