I wasn't in an especially bad mood. It was just that, being in Starbucks, what sounded like a strangulated cow breathing its last to what vaguely resembled Silent Night made me state "It's far too early to play Christmas music; it's only November. Besides, this isn't music, it's awful." I then suggested that they might put the cardboard collars where 'people' can actually reach them (I don't even know why I go in Starbucks, it has the worst coffee in the neighbourhood; it just happens to do them big. I reflected ruefully that the next legitimate target will probably get my ire full throttle.
Guess whom I saw stepping out of his car? I followed him into the building, and as I passed through the security door, I realised I stood in grave danger of being in the lift with him. I hung back - after all, regardless of who it is, I don't make a habit of walking in front of blind people. But as I hung back, some aide waved me into the lift with a facial expression that said "It's okay, just because it's the Secretary of State doesn't mean that you can't get in the lift..." But the doors closed just before I made that crucial final step. (To call our lifts temperamental would be a kindness). So I laughed, and the aide laughed.
David, you had a lucky escape...!
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