The smell of a sneeze

You're going to think I'm mad, or weird, or both. I can smell a sneeze.

It's not a pleasant smell. It's sort of a mouldy smell, and it lingers in the air. It's usually most pungent when combined with saliva, and the most unfortunate thing that I was to discover about my ability was to be uncovered on the train home from work.

I was sat next to a blonde mild-mannered girl, with a portly chap reading the telegraph across the aisle to my right.

I was listening to my MP3 player at a reasonably loud volume, but I still heard the sound of a sneeze and turned to see the portly gent mid-flow.

Immediately the smell hit the air, and there you have it.

I can smell other peoples' sneezes. Not exactly the most glamourous of super-powers is it?

I think I'd rather be thermometer man, or powdered-toast man.

Hell, it'd be more glamourous if I lived off of the smell of childrens' tears. Sick, but quite cool. I'd be like a super miserable old git.

My morning routine

It never goes to plan.

Even though my routine is exactly that, it is always a routine of regular mistakes and mishaps.

To illustrate this, I've collated a list of events that happen most mornings.

• Wake up, switch off the radio, sit up-right, and activate the same creaky spring that wakes my girlfriend up every morning.


• Put my slippers on whilst catching a sock, a t-shirt or some jeans in them in the process. This takes 20-25 seconds, even though they're slip-ons.


• Walk downstairs into the kitchen, and go to get the cereal. Rice Crispies. Promptly open the wrong cupboard. Open the right cupboard. Get the cereal, milk it, and go watch TV until 6:15.


• Get into the bathroom, and close the door. Realise the light switch is on the outside of the bathroom. Open the door. Turn on the light. Blind my dozing girlfriend. Close the door.


• Get naked. Turn on the shower, and step in. Only when my feet are wet, do I realise I've forgotten to get a towel.


• Get out of shower with wet feet. Go through (now naked and cold) to the airing cupboard to collect a towel.


• Get in the shower, now with said towel outside.


• Whilst washing with the soap, drop it at least twice at all costs.


• Hit my elbow against either the wall or the temperature guage, or both. This inevitably makes the water inhospitable because it's too hot, or too cold. Re-adjust. Hit it again. Re-adjust, and then drop the soap. Ad infinitum.


• Dry myself off and brush my teeth.

By now, my routine has worn off, and I'm awake enough to shake off the absent-mindedness and continue with the rest of my day.

I hope that next time you do something really stupid in the morning that you do quite regularly, you'll think of this blog, and curse me for being so darn observant.