I was rushing through London’s Kings Cross yesterday morning when I felt a tug on my coat
“That’s weird,” I thought, as I was yanked backwards into oblivion.
Bobbing and weaving through the crowds of other exasperated commuters, you often bump into people. But this was different. It felt like I was snagged on something, but as soon as I felt the snag, it released, like a fish who wasn’t too keen on getting caught.
As a Brit, I did what all Brits do in these situations: mumbled a vague “Sorry!” to no one in particular. “What the heck just happened?” I puzzled.
That’s when I looked down.
In a freak occurrence, my coat had yanked out a significant tuft of someone’s hair. I stared down in horror, turned and shouted a much louder “OH GOD I’M SO SORRY” to the entirety of central London.
If you’re the person who suddenly lost a large clump of hair on Thursday morning, my coat and I would both like to apologise to you. And if you find yourself being questioned by the police over why your hair was found at the scene of a jewel heist, that’s a total coincidence.
