Wet hands, extiguished heart.

I don’t like the new hand towels in the dispensers at work. They are not absorbent enough, although I do like the rougher texture they bring. You have to use twice as much towel to finally have dry hands. Which surely not as environmentally friendly, the rolls of towel would be used up much more quickly meaning twice the amount of sending off to get cleaned. The batches of towels need to be collected, washed industrially (I cannot imagine banks of regular washing machines doing this job), dried industrially and then delivered again. So much energy being wasted.

Why don’t we have those proximity controlled hot-air dryers? Or those funky Dyson things. I would have the Dyson’s over anything else. I am often disappointed with hand dryers in restaurants or pubs. Most of the time they just blow cold air as the heater thing doesn’t work. I don’t really like the way that water gets blown around on my hands. It is not a great feeling.

Probably the only post that has anything to do with the blog's title.

Every morning I watch people go crazy. And it happens to be quite normal that people go crazy.

Often, the highlight of my trip to work is watching the frenzy that is The Canada Water Crush. I board the Overground train at exactly the same place on the platform which would give me the best view of The Crush. I have to stand most days until I actually get to Canada Water meaning I can miss the first few moments of this mildly aggressive and competitive event while trying to jump into someone's vacated seat. But there are days, when I can simply watch without hindrance. As the train pulls out of Surrey Quays, I put my bookmark back in my book in order to take note of the people who get out of their seats early to go and stand by the door.

There is always one who positions him/herself with their nose almost touching the rubber edges of the doors, waiting for them to open. This person has an arm outstretched and on the button that will release them. They wait for the noise like a Formula One driver waits for the five red lights to go out. Leg muscles are tensed and ready to kick-off. Shoulders are hunched aerodynamically. This will be the person who will…
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Canter? Trot? They will sort of, but not quite, jog to the escalators so that they can descend without their fellow passengers getting in the way. And this challenge that has been laid down by this early bird will be taken up by a few more plucky commuters. And they too will canter or trot or not quite jog to be the first to the moving staircase.

But I can see the eyes of those who don’t make the effort. They hope that one day, they will have what it takes to shoot out of the orange and silver carriage. They hope that they can leave the sheep-like ways of the average commuter. They hope that they can cut their journey time down by at least a minute instead of being bottlenecked at the escalator. They hope…