The invisible photographer

There I was, composing my photo of the closed-down camping shop, when a bright red car drove in and parked right in front of me. The driver registered my waiting presence but he made no gesture to apologise and no attempt to move. I waited. She was in no hurry to get out of the passenger seat, gather items from the back seat (I waited), rearrange them, sort some onto the front seat (I waited) then shut the door and start walking away.

Then I saw what she was wearing so pounced the millisecond the exhaust pipe was out of view.