Squeegee merchant: my new vocation?

Kelham island, Saturday, midnight. I am with a small group, we are walking back home after a night out. A car comes past and I hear a clattering noise. I look around and see a plastic item on the road, which I assume has come off the car. I pick it up, and find that it is a squeegee. The car is paused at red light a few yards away. I’m not sure if the driver or passengers have seen me pick up their squeegee, and I don’t want them to think I will brazenly steal their squeegee in plain view, so I think I have no option but to walk up to the passenger side window and proffer the squeegee. The driver appears alarmed at the sight of me with squeegee in hand, and waves me away. One of our party, witnessing the scene, exclaims ‘they think you are a squeegee merchant!’ and I laugh until my sides hurt. Since when have squeegee merchants trailed around cities at night in heels and without the obligatory bucket of water?!

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