Mind the Gap: Russian Roulette on the London Underground

I’m full of sickness. And not in the rad street way. Gah.  Meh. My head is full of multicoloured slugs trying to escape from my nose.  Hardened lumps of concrete fill my sinuses*.  A bubbly hack is turning into a gutteral bark.  Gorgeous.  And, just for good measure, the downside to the lovely spring is the not so lovely hayfever.  Didn’t I just do that back home?

Anyway.  Despite the odd moment of weeping on colleagues, having to cancel a very cool lunch and generally being a miserable git, I’m now feeling a little better and can ponder how I picked up this particular virusy goodness.

I’m blaming The Tube.  Long, largely underground tunnels of trains, linking all parts of London.  Mostly a fabulous idea, especially for a girl from SA, a country which has no public transport to speak of.   But also often packed to the gunnels with smelly, sneezy, grumpy, armpity people, who are too busy hanging on for dear life to cover their mouths when they cough or sneeze.

And of course, since many of them are literaly miles and miles and miles underground, all those lergies have a lovely warm, stale breeding ground to swim about in.

Cue sicky the sick instect.

Bah.  Humbug.  Sniff.

One of *two* massive escalators you need to escape Holburn Underground Station

* Thank you, scientisty people, for Sudafed.  Grateful grovel.