I was parked on Bath Street last week having my lunch in the motor, idley flicking through the utterly horrific Cotswolds catalogue that had arrived in the post. Lunch incedentaly was a fine soup/sandwich/brownie/cuppa combo from that new place that’s opened up where O’Briens was on Sauchiehall St. Very nice.
Anyway, there were two parked cars in view. One was in front of me, a wee people carried of recent vintage, the other to my left. I watched this second arrive, a black S-Class Merc of recent purchase. The occupant rolled himself out into the street, adjusted his fine finely tailer suit, smoothed the back down, adjusted the collar beneeth his fat red overindulged face and rotated his gold watch around his wrist (must’ve been catching a hair) before setting off.
I had paid my parking ticket and was in a space, both of the other cars were on a single yellow line and were displaying disabled badges.
I was into the brownie by the time a man approached the people carrier in front of me. I was vaguelly distracted by his movements as he was peering into it’s driver-side window. My first though was “This dick is going to tan the window and make of with something from within”.
But now watching more closely I could see that he had no hands. He had the cable actuated split hooks attached to instead. He started to dance about on one foot and as I watched he pulled one foot out of his slip-on shoe. Between his toes he held a car key. He unlocked the door and opened it, then put the key in the ignition. All while standing on his other foot. He put his foot back in his shoe and got in. Shortly after he drove away.
I was stunned, psyched. I had to phone people to tell them. This was a display of the finest of qualities that people have. Adversity is no boundary, no definition unless you chose.
If we could all display these qualities, draw on the inherent strength that humans possess, apply it with intelligence then surely nothing could be beyond us.
But of course the telly is good, so we’ll do it tomorrow.