When I lose a glove I feel annoyed.
Where should I look for it? Do I really have to buy a new pair?
Should I retrace my steps to look for it?
But then, when was it I lost it exactly? It’s hard to be sure.
Losing a glove has been an entirely negative experience.
But last weekend, spent in the beautiful Peak District has given me a change of heart.
When you lose a glove in a beautiful place, some other walker will find it and put it up high so you can spot it when you return for it.
In practice you will probably never return, but it has the happy side effect that your abandoned glove is now waving at a beautiful view.
I have to leave the Peak District and go back to work in the crowded South East, but my glove will remain, gazing out for evermore at green hillsides, Spring lambs and budding oaks.
Kinda “There is some corner of a foreign field that will be forever England.”
Now all I have to do if I feel stressed in nose-to-tail traffic is to imagine slipping my hand back into that glove in its resting place on a bucolic gatepost and for a moment I shall be there.
(Although all grey, all the gloves in these photos were actually found separately.)