A sticky sort of problem

Doesn’t anyone blow their nose anymore? There was more phlegm shifted on my train this morning than in a Cold Research Laboratory. I’m not talking about myself here, just in case you think the worst. I’m talking about all the many men who snorted, snuffled, sneezed and made foul noises in the back of their throats on my busy commuter train today. I tell you, I could have gagged.

I know things have moved on in the nose department since my mum used to boil up all my dad’s hankies in a saucepan once a week, but you’d think tissues would make it easier for men to blow their noses. I was on the verge of offering a few round but decided I’d only get looked at like I was Victor Meldrew’s sister, so I kept my mouth shut and put my headphones in.

When the train pulled into the station and I took them off it was just in time to hear the man opposite sniffing so hard I thought the contents of his nose would shoot out through the top of his head. Dis-gusting!

It was a definite sense of humour loss on my part. Maybe I could learn a thing or two from this little lad…