I dropped my left glove on the way home from work today. I realised this when my hand got cold walking past a bad pub. So I turned around and re-traced my steps, back past the bad pub, past the ugly hotel, past the not particularly pretty but certainly not terrible church, and over Euston road. Lo.
Euston Road is purportedly the road with the slowest average speed in all of the UK. This is not due to excessive speed restrictions, this is the road the M25 wants to be. My glove was lying in the middle of the section of traffic lights I have cross, seemingly unharmed by five minutes of traffic. As I watched, I saw that my glove had had the fortune to fall exactly between the middle lan of westbound traffic, cars, lorries, even a bendy bus, managed to pass straight over my glove without doing it any harm. The speed was so slow that even the air turbulence couldn't pick the glove up and carry it. And then, as the lights where about to change and as I was about to be able to rest my glove, the traffic miraculously parted and a black cab hit fifteen mph, carrying my poor glove forwards through the air and into the yellow hatched box. Of doom. And then the light switched
From this direction the bendy bus could hit it. As did a truck, three cars, and possibly a motorcyclist.
The good news is that all of this did remarkably little damage, so my glove is fine. That's not that point of this story, the point of this story is a moral and the moral of this story isn't don't drop your glove, but rather, more importantly, don't pull off your gloves with your mouth when you finally get home.
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Gareth
You're so special mark...and so are your needs
love you