My kitchen window looks out onto a world which is mostly composed of the junction of Newtown and Gloucester Road . . . it could be any junction in any town in the country . . . but from my viewpoint I swear I see more assholes than any proctologist might throughout their entire career . . . surely that text that you're trying to send can't be that important, my love . . . and well done to you, sir, for managing to squeeze through that gap - pretty topical, as if you carry on like that, you'll end up being fed through a tube . . . and it'll be no more than you deserve!
A friend of mine told me yesterday that she was, quite rightly, crossing Wingfield Road at a green light, but this apparently meant bugger all to the motorist who went through the light, narrowly missing her . . . I might be pontificating here, but I also stand guilty of not observing courtesy to other road users - or do I? It's just that I do feel a little self-aware when walking on the cycle lanes . . . the cycle lanes which I've always understood were pavements! Cyclists of Trowbridge! If you haven't got the balls to use the roads, then for pity's sake walk!!
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