The local park has an exciting new feature. They have installed a bottle return machine. You take your bottles there and it gives you money.

But I am not taking my bottles there. A gang of older ladies monopolise it. They scour the neighbourhood collecting bottles and gather at the bottle machine to deposit them.

This is no slipshod operation. It is a highly organised offensive, presided over, with an iron hand, by the purple haired lady that Lisa has dubbed 'The Bottle Boss'.

The ladies line up with their bottles, at 8am, and the Bottle Boss supervises their deposits.

I can only image that she supervises their collection routes, and collects their deposits for safe keeping. Perhaps there is some maintenance fee, but this is sure to go to the makkoli that they will drink in the afternoon when play Yut in the park's gazebo.

The operation obstructs the path through the park that I am using as I take Lisa to school. Walking into the badminton courts to go around them is no problem. Usually. But after a rain, we would be forced to walk through a puddle.

And Bottle Boss keeps an eye on us as we pass.

That is maybe my fault. I once suggested to one of the ladies that there is no line at the bottle machine at 10am.

"That isn't allowed," she whispered, not looking at me.

I thought nothing of it as I walked past, but that next morning, the Bottle Boss scowled at me, and she has watched me ever since.

This morning as we walk past, we don't want to step in the puddle, so there is some bumping and jostling. Bottle Boss watches it all, and spits aggressively to the side when I look at her. I grab Lisa's hand and speed up, dealing out some jostling of my own.

As we leave the park, Lisa seems a bit concerned, so I assure her: "Lisa. You know I'm not scared of them right? They are just old ladies. I could take them." Then making sure. "If it come down to anything, you would be on my side, right?"

"Of course, Daddy, but what about your knee?"

"It wouldn't slow me down. And if they don't know about it, they won't attack it." Then I add,"You haven't told anyone about it have you?"

"I would never..."

"Okay."

I don't really want to involve Lisa in this, but I didn't bring my knife... oh, wait, I have my belt, that will be enough for this.

"It shouldn't be a problem, but if I'm late tonight, you know what to tell Mom."

"Yeah– bottle business. Be careful Daddy."