What's with the gloves?

Breaking news: see James's blog for the cute cycling stockings. He gave in in the end and doesn't he look great.
The news reported 'monsoon like conditions on the m5' and that pretty much matched the rain today. Monsoons don't necessarily have wind so throw in a hurricane and you get the picture.
Setting off for the afternoon run from Okehampton to Launceston and we had to remount with shoes full of water and shorts totally soaking. Very unpleasant and not good for the saddle soreness prospects.
James had done some excellent route planning (gps route still slapdash I'm afraid mate!) and soon we found ourselves on a nat cycle network route. It's along an old railway so was gloriously flat and beautifully surfaced (better than most roads we've been on) and obviously traffic free. Perfection. Unfortunately it heads off to Exeter so it teased us for 5 miles or so before we had to turn off.
Saw an amazing fantasy pub with one side like a boot (old woman who lived in a shoe) and the other side like a stagecoach. No sign but it may have been called the Stand and Deliver(?) inSourton (piccy on James's blog).
After James assured me that the last 5 miles into Oke would be downhill and we then faced a 1 mile climb I started to disbelieve him. He later read the map and said we had a 1 in 7 downhill and pooh poohed my assertion that it was in fact against us. One knackering climb later and I now never trust him.
The afternoon saw the rain take a few breaks but lunchtime's dry shirt still got drenched.
We made good time to Launceston and arrived about 5.30. It's perched on top of a really high hill above the river and the climb drained our last reserves of energy. When James phoned the landlady for directions he didn't clarify things too well and we rode all the way down to the river and had to walk right the way back up. Launceston officially has the steepest streets in the country, 1 in 1 at least. Didn't see many other cyclists in town.
Since our recent traumas with punctures I have become obsessed with broken glass and thorns on cycle paths and roads. I'm now going to become a nutty old man hacking down evil thorn bushes and waging a one psyco crusade against broken glass. The next oik I see who thinks
it fun to smash a bottle on the road may well be surprised by what they consider to be a totally disproportionate feeling of the collar.
I've been noticing something curious the whole trip from Scotland and that is the single working glove in the gutter of the main A roads. They appear about every mile and there is only ever one with an endless variety of styles. I think I may have stumbled on a cult's secret messaging mechanism, or perhaps it's a game and these are dropped off and clues posted for others to try and find them. Maybe it's one person who has travelled the length of the country and, afraid of not being able to find their way home, leaves a trail of gloves like Hansel and Gretal's breadcrumbs to follow and retrace their steps. Have a look out for them next time you're driving along. Just shows you how much time I've spent staring at the tarmac and keeping an eye on how close I am to the gutter over the last 2 weeks. Just had a thought that maybe James is in on the secret and that's where his other glove went.