On the train this morning, sitting in the vestibule (I would never sit in the actual carriage) I found myself thinking "why do I always sit in the vestibule? Why don't I ever sit in the actual carriage?" And, you know what, I didn't have an answer. At the back of my mind a little voice was saying "claustrophobia!" and "what if there was a fire?" and "terrorist!" but I ignored the back of my mind as it's prone to histrionics and I prefer to think of myself as a calm, rational sort of person.
It's just that every now and then I catch myself doing something slightly bizarre. For instance, if I'm walking down the footpath and the school girl chant "step on a crack, break your mother's back" pops into my head (as it does on occasion) I simply cannot step on a crack. So I go hopping and skipping along the footpath like an overgrown 5 year old. The back of my mind is saying "please, just don't break your poor long-suffering mother's back, especially not now that she's in her sixties and has osteoarthritis, the damage could be catastrophic!!"
Or if I have peas on my plate, I must eat the peas first before I can get to the good stuff. The back of my mind is silent on this one but my poor long-suffering mother's voice is clear at the front of it: eat your peas, young lady!
And just the other night I threw myself from the door onto the bed, making sure that no part of me touched the floor between... difficult one to explain this, but the back of my mind says "remember when you were younger and your little sister told you that people lived under your bed and they would reach out and grab your ankles if you came anywhere near your bed... imagine if they grabbed your ankles!"
Well, see, apparently they still live under there.