Stuff

I hit a man on the tube this morning.  It was entirely involuntary.  He was one of a growing band of men who flagrantly, disgustingly and persistently pick their noses and flick the mucusy treasures over the floor of the carriage.  And they’re what I hate most about commuting, more than tourists who are physically incapable of removing their backpacks or city types who sigh heavily when I ask them to move their bags or hypochondriacs who slam the windows shut on the Central line so the carriage turns into a sauna and I drown in my own sweat. 
 
Before I knew what I was doing, my hand shot out and I whacked his arm.  Not hard, but clearly deliberately, like a parent rebuking a child.  We were both shocked – me by my errant hand, him that he had been caught.  (Yes, nosepickers of the tube – you are not invisible!  You are vile, filthy scum!  You make baby Jesus cry!)  We made fleeting eye contact, both terrified at having transgressed the boundaries of the London Underground that say thou shalt not communicate with one another.  He buried himself in his Metro and I was suddenly very interested in my book.  He got off at the next stop.
 
I have some rather dull questions for you now, imaginary people of the internet:
 
1)  I’m going to get my mum vouchers for a spa/massage type place for Christmas.  Question:  which one?  I’m in danger of booking her into a dodgy “massage” joint if I try to do this on my own.  I don’t want my mum ringing me up halfway through worriedly asking what a “happy finish” means.
 
2)  I need a new mobile phone.  My old one is four years old and keeps turning itself off.  Do I just go into a shop and…buy one?  And then put my…SIM card…in it?  Is that it?  NOTE:  do not bamboozle me with brands and special features.  I do not care.

3)  Where shall I go on a short holiday in January?  One word answers, please.

6.12.06 16:45