Just got back from a brief jolly to London.  I didn’t see any single gloves lying around – I’m guessing street cleaners are a lot more on the ball in the Big Smoke.  Either that or single gloves have better access to dating opportunities…  Anyway, Charlotte, my lovely hostess-with-the-mostest, had been keeping her eyes peeled during the winter months and rescued a few for me

These will now go into my ‘lost gloves’ stash, and at some stage be resurrected as monsters.  This is more of an art project, and one I’m experimenting with alongside Sarah Cole, who has been charting the tragedy of lost gloves for a few years now.  This fine creature came to me as a slinky elbow-length mitten thing, cruelly abandoned in Leeds.

All you lost and lonely gloves out there, take heart!

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