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Abandoned Gloves of Scotland

Well, I’ve been a moody little shit this week. The Darkness is getting to me again. Going to work in the dark, getting home in the dark. Etcetera, etcetera. Then I got into a huff at work this morning because I had to put up the Christmas decorations, and they were in the same jingle jangle tangled state I’d left them in last Christmas, when I’d once again stuffed them into the box in a huff because I’d been convinced Gareth wouldn’t propose and I’d be deported from the UK and definitely not be around the next Christmas and some other Antipodean temp would have to deal with them. Ha!

Putting up the decs at work contains none of the joy of putting up the decs at home. There’s no nostalgic crowing over heirloom ornaments or fighting over who gets to put the star on top of the tree. There’s not even anyone to fight with, because you have sole decorating duties. And there’s no tree, unless you count the plastic plants. There’s just a pile of tinsel bought at Safeway ten years ago, choked with ancient lumps of cellotape.

After I half heartedly threw Christmas cheer over all the cubicles I asked one of the managers could I take the afternoon off.

“Why?” he asked. “Is it because you’re cranky?”

“Yes!”

“On you go then.”

I really love the guys I work with. They are gems.

So I stomped off at lunch time, stopping at the gym to do a Body Pump class in the hope of producing some happy chemicals. Then I came home, did the dishes, then decided to go back out and take a photo of the wintry landscape for you, in order to illustrate my shitty mood. By the time I got beanied and gloved up it was too dark to get a decent shot. Instead I am going to post a mediocre blog entry, and by the time it’s finished I will have snapped out of my sulk and be sane again, so I’ll scurry off to watch Ready Steady Cook.

During my first Scottish winter I began to notice all these lost gloves in the streets of Edinburgh. Some on footpaths, some on stone walls, some impaled on fence posts, some stuck up trees, some floating down the canal, some caked with spew. I don’t know how so many people come to lose just one glove. I started taking photos of them and had this brilliant idea that I would create a photo gallery called Abandoned Gloves of Scotland and put it on the internet. But once it got to the next winter I realised what a crap idea it was, because 95% of the gloves are black and 95% of them are found upon grey backgrounds (pavement, road, cobblestones) which makes for really shithouse photos. Och well.

Dunvegan, Isle of Skye, April 2004. The only non-black glove with a non-grey backdrop. But still crap!
Dunvegan, Isle of Skye, April 2004.
The only non-black glove with a non-grey backdrop. But still crap!

 

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About Shauna Reid

Ahoy there! I’m an author, copywriter and old school blogger. I love telling stories about life and helping my clients to tell theirs. Find out more about me and how we can work together.


16 thoughts on “Abandoned Gloves of Scotland

  1. How dull of the glove-losing population of Scotland to drop only black ones. I did see a purple one on the railings by the Scott Monument yesterday, but it was pretty dark too.

    Maybe bright gloves show up well enough for their owners to realise they’ve dropped them. Or maybe dull-coloured ones just want to escape. I had a pair of grey gloves which lost themselves, temporarily and individually, on several occasions but always made their way home (I think). Perhaps I, and all the other glove-droppers, need to have them on elastic, like when we were little kids.

  2. The Darkness has struck here too. Every year you think it’s going to be different, that you’re finally acclimatised, but no. I struggle through december and the first week of January, after that its just a blur until April. This year I am consoled not only by bok-bier but by the knowledge that in four weeks I will be in sunny-day-lit Melbourne!

  3. For what it’s worth, here’s a vote that that the Isle of Skye non-black/non-grey photo isn’t crap! Makes me want to find some ranchland somewhere and roam it, all by my lonesome.

  4. You know, I can actually understand how people lose one glove. You take your gloves off to do something like get a bus ticket out of your wallet, put them into your pocket, and then one falls out as you are stepping onto the bus. Maybe that’s just me being disorganised though.

    I came across a very colourful child’s beanie with pom poms and other dangly bits in the park near me the other day – and I’m in Australia where it’s almost summer! I left the beanie there for a lucky little girl to find.

  5. Is it poor form to leave a comment on a website where you don’t know the blogger? Probably. I am pleased to say I found your website by chance and think it is hilarious.

    I also think that the putative website ‘abandoned gloves’ would be all the better for being repetitive. Surely that’s the irony of the idea?

  6. Could be that, having lost one glove, people are inclined to just chuck the other one, meaning that the abundance of abandoned gloves is double what you might otherwise expect it to be. Doesn’t explain why they’re all black, though. Or why it only happens in Scotland.

  7. No – tis a good shot! Perhaps you should collect all the black gloves and sew the pinky’s together or something – sounds very ‘conceptual art’ 😛

  8. Oh Shauny! I am as we speak experiencing ‘the dark’ for the first time. I have also been in a right fouler all week and couldn’t figure it out. I just thought I was a complete biotch until my lovely cyber-now-flesh babe explained that it is not uncommon to get that way at this time of year. So I took heart.

    Just as with the tracksuit pants, you comfort me with your observations, woman.

    And I love your only non-black, non-grey-background photo. I actually thought of doing this with socks at one stage but had the same problem – and no such spectacular background scenery in the central west of NSW. 😀 XXXX

  9. Hi Shauny. Its Sydney, by the beach using the wireless. Its seven 45. Its 31 degrees I have my feet in the water and am getting ready for the working weeking. You know what the bible says about the darkness – its better to light a candle and all that. So enjoy the lights and the snow and drinking too much.

  10. I have a theory that that skye glove came off rather violently as the young girl who was carried towards the lake by the water monster tried to hold on for dear life.

    heheheh…..

    Chocolate, woman! Haven’t you learnt yet!Heals all ails, but especially PMT, Menopause and The Dark!!

    love and kisses from a nice, balmy Sydney…

  11. As a weejie, of advancing years I recall going to school in the inky black of morning and afternoon clad in shorts and a duffel coat through horizontal blizzrads. Nowadays you’d be taken into care if you were seen walking to school let alone wearing shorts.

    I lost my teddy on one such 2 mile trek, and found him severql days later frozen solid and impaled throught the head on a railing.

    It was possibly the closest thing to Macabre that a 6 year old could get.

    Never lost a glove mind, the secret is the string up the sleeve linking the blighters.

    Pol x

  12. On a completely unrelated note, and you have probably already posted about this, I would assume, but I don’t remember things. I went into Tescos and found yon “Tim-Tams” all you Aussies are always on about. Does this not cheer the Aussie soul? I used to weep with joy any time I found Irn-Bru abroad, even when I didn’t drink it. Or are they the wrong ones? There were two types and they appeared to be made on the other side of the world and flown over, so none of this “it’s not proper Guinness” argument.
    Course, they are not fair trade, so I didn’t touch ’em.
    Chocolate is good against the dark, but the Germans have sussed it with mulled wine. Make some, put it is a mug and then wander out for a walk.
    Mulled wine, that is, not Germans. Difficult to make and they don’t fit in crockery well.

  13. Yes, it sucks donkey balls up here at the top of the world, doesn’t it? It is grey here too.

    At first when you said the Darkness was getting to you again, I was afraid you were referring to the buttrock band of the same name. Oh noes, time for a restaining order!

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