It's been too long.
I'm going to keep most of these captions as short and sweet as possible so that I can get to the most recent photos from London
(where I live now
because I'm doing that MA that I applied for
and it's blowing my mind a little bit).
Here goes nothing on an empty stomach, as my mom always says (not entirely true. My stomach is full of coffee and crystallized ginger):
I spent four Fridays throughout last February and March doing work experience at Breast Cancer Care, a London-based charity near the Tate Modern. The circumstances under which I obtained this work experience were rather far-fetched: the (now) ex-boyfriend of the sister of a friend of my (now) ex-boyfriend's brother
...here, for those of you who don't know me personally, I suppose I should mention that the (now) ex-boyfriend is the oft-referenced Daniel of previous posts. (It's actually December 19th, but for continuity's sake I'm going to stick this one somewhere in July.) I highly doubt he'll read this, and I'm not really down with Internet etiquette regarding the proper handling of breakups, but I can't think that this slight aside would cause any harm, seeing as it'll explain his sudden disappearance from future captions. Does this have any relevance to black gloves? I guess not, but it's weird to look back on these photos and remember the exact circumstances surrounding the discovery of a glove. In a way, all these photos helped me to form a sort of topographical map of Reading, and so many times I was with him, or going to meet him, or leaving his house or wherever we'd been together - we were constantly walking around discovering nooks and crannies of the town - that even though he wasn't an active participant in the BGP (in fact, I don't think he really understood it), it'll still be odd knowing he won't likely appear in any more of them.
No more sap! Anyway...
...worked in the editorial department there, proofreading pamphlets and newsletters among other tasks. As an English lit graduate himself, he was more than happy to help me out, and I ended up having a blast. If the opportunity arises, I'd love to work in a charity at some point - everyone was ridiculously friendly, and it was great to know that everything was done to help women with breast cancer and their families, not just to make products more appealing and desirable.
I found this pair across the street from Southwark tube station on February 19th. Frost had forced the glove in the foreground to give me a raggedy thumbs-up. I can't help but think that whoever lost them had been rummaging in a bag, maybe searching for an Oyster card, causing them to escape one at a time.
When I returned to Reading that night, I went to Marks & Spencer for a reason I cannot recall. This fingerless glove-sleeve thing (yeah, all right, I'm getting even MORE lax in my requirements) was atop a shelf there:
Two days later, I was with Daniel. I can't remember where we were headed, but we must have hit up Pau Brasil for a toasted cheese, tomato, and oregano sandwich, because he's holding one in one of those little wax bags they used. I do remember his mom called, and he stopped to talk to her while I caught this glove in a parking lot off Whitley:
The same day, probably within a few miles of us, devoted glovehunter Izzy found an especially well-placed one. I should really give this one its own post and entitle it "The Crotch Shot":
On March 5th - I think that was the day that Daniel's exhibition opened - I spotted this one outside Liverpool Street tube station and was nearly trampled trying to get a non-blurry photo of it. Wait, that can't be right, because I know Daniel was there when I took it (he was impatient) and we didn't go to his exhibition together; he was already at the venue. Oh, I don't know. This one gave me a thumbs-up as well.