Ew, gross

This morning on the tube I had the joy of seeing one of those moments that makes you want to rush for disinfectant. I usually have a fairly high tolerance, compared to flatmate's OCD tendancies. I can make it from home to work withot reaching for the hand sanitizer. In fact, I don't actually carry any. Nor do I carry wet wipes in any form. I do, however, find that it's best to find some soap after getting off any form of public transport. This morning's effort just reinforced the lesson drilled into me by my mother.

It started out as an ordinary black-snot-inducing day. I was chatting to a friend the other day who had thought that his mother was referring to steam trains when she warmed him that taking the train in London would make his snot black. He laughed and told her that steam trains didn't run in the UK anymore. He still believed that until he travelled on the Northern line. Now he uderstands.

But it wasn't the colour of anyone's snot, black, green or otherwise, that had my stomach turning over this morning. It was the man who decided that sitting in a full carriage during peak time was the perfect opportunity to investigate just what was inside his nose. He carried out an in depth inspection, delving for gold for the entire journey between London Bridge and Oval. He might not have stopped at Oval, for all I know, it's just that I got off there. What I do know for sure is that, once his inspection of each fingernail-full was carried out, he rolled the discoveries up and flicked them away from him. 

For all the disgustingness of his actions though, there was a part of me that desperately wanted to giggle as I remembered one of the vile parodies of Heman's 'Casabianca' poem that could be found in my primary school playground:

The boy stood on the burning deck

Picking his nose like mad.

Rolled it into little balls

And flicked them at his dad.

And for that moment, I was back in the library reading Alright Vegemite, Far Out Brussel Sprout, or a similar collection of silly rhymes, with all the other grade fours and rolling on the floor laughing. And for that fact alone, I almost forgave the nose-picker.Almost. Doesn't mean I didn't go straight to wash my hands when I got to the office, though.