Navigating my way around the mess made by the umpteenth excavations of the electricity cables along our only route off the Isle of Dogs, I was wobbling along with my right hand signalling a turn, two fingers elegantly extended, when I found myself in one of those "After you, Claude" moments with a car.
Nice of him to slow down, but I wasn't quite sure he was giving way; since I was nearly about to stop, it seemed more secure to keep moving to turn behind him, so I switched to gesturing to him to carry on towards me and go first.
Only later did I realise that it must have looked like a particularly vigorous V-sign.
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