Can't touch this

I was raised to be paranoid about germs. By both parents. It hasn't just affected me but my siblings too. We are the type of family who cannot touch anything in public and open doors with a kerchief. Which poses a particular problem when riding on public transport.

Luckily for the rest of my family they avoid PT like the plague and work in locations that are reasonably accessible by car. But little ol' me, rides to work each day with an anxiety bordering on obsessive compulsive disorder.

I would love to say that I have rock hard abs, and I probably do under my thick layer of belly blubber, as I have almost mastered the art of adopting an anti-falling stance on PT, with a "look Mum, no hands!" approach. I say almost, as although I don my tram legs (similar to sea legs, you get the drift), on some trips I am forced to grab hold of the nearest greasy handle to save my own life and those around me. This fills me with deep regret and I feel tainted for the rest of the trip until I can get into work and wash my hands. I make a point of remembering which is my 'dirty' hand, and make sure that I do not use this hand for clean things, like holding my takeaway coffee cup or scratching my face...

So if you see a crazy chick, with red goggles, wild brown hair, legs akimbo, concentrating hard not to hold on and muttering curse words under her breath, that's me or one of the other million germaphobic people catching a tram to work. Hey, that handle slime can't be good for you...