Saturday, May 6, 2017. Daily Brit Wit.
“He opens the driver’s side door. Immediately, the frigid wind whistles inside the toasty cabin of his sedan. He doesn’t hesitate to exit the car and moves swiftly to the petrol pump.
As he removes his card, the knuckles on his left hand bunch up stiffly and he wonders how long until the skin bleeds. There’s an old song-and-dance routine his dad taught him as a young lad to beat the winter chills while pumping the petrol; unconsciously, he falls into the rhythm by flexing all ten metacarpals and humming under his breath.”