... every L-driver in the whole of North London, stalling just as the lights turned green (at least ten of 'em), and the dear little ancient old man and old lady who were stranded on a traffic island. looking beseechingly at the oncoming traffic as it whizzed past, dangerously close to their bunions. Conscience made me stop, but I sweated buckets as they edged painfully slowly across the road, and I couldn't start up again until they were both safely standing on the pavement, much to the annoyance of the car behind, which was probably being driven by an even more stressed person than me!
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