The kerbs at the unfashionable end of Charlotte St. car-park in Bath are somewhat higher than most people expect. Thus there was a minor scraping noise this AM when the air-dam on the 9k made passing contact with same.
On the way back to the car this even, I spotted some Golf-pilot who'd made much more of a bugger of the job. The bendy-plastic bottom half of his car's front valance was scraping along the tarmac in front of his car. I attempted some complex gesticulation, but I suspect he was far too middle-management to pay attention to the chap in the strichtarn
semaphoring like a rowdy tramp.
Early this morning, a man came to replace the electricity meter with a panatela box.
Later, while I was sitting in the car waiting for the aircon to defrost the windows, I had occasion to grab at various bits of said strichtarn
jacket in order to find out if I'd remembered to bung my spectacles in one or other pocket. Instead, I found what felt like an oddly-shaped lump of something else. The sort of lump one might find in one's clothing had one managed to wash a folded envelope or a wad of tenners. However, it wasn't inside any pockets or part of the material for same.
I dunno about you, but when I find a strange lump in a jacket I bought second-hand that originally came from the Soviet Bloc, I start to imagine all sorts
of things: false papers, a handful of ostmarks (or indeed dollars, given hard currency would be more likely to be hidden) or a suicide kit.
Luckily, there were some loose stitches in the lining handy for the whatever-it-was, so I was able to wiggle it out. It's an odd sort of double-pocket arrangement and I have No Bloody Idea what it might have been for.( Dodgy cold-war clothing pics )
 As advertised by 'National treasure but a bit shaky on GPS and TCP/IP' and 'Seppo medic impersonator'. Pointy finger hat.