Wednesday 10thJuly

I have always been a victim of compulsive behaviour;  only a mild one I must admit, but I do like the comfort of routine, and the more that that routine is self-imposed the happier I am.  I start my day with a pee, while I am running the hot tap slowly.  This gets the temperature right – not the pee, but the hot water.  Then it is the shave, and in strict order I shave in neat rows from the ears down, leaving an ever-narrowing strip of white until just a Hitler moustache remains.  I cannot bring myself to change this routine.

I check my pockets methodically before I leave the house (even to walk the dogs); credit card wallet, internet dongle, memory bar, zovirax, money, phone, mp3 player, tube pass and keys.  And usually in that order, then invariably as I am just about to shut the front door I check again.

On the tube in the long walkways between lines I make sure I do not step on any lines; the tiles are laid in large metal trays, it is the lines of these trays I avoid, but I do it by measuring and adjusting my stride to make sure I casually overstep the dreaded cracks.  As a child walking to school I always avoided the cracks, and I am reminded of this compulsive behaviour I have continued into adult life, and it is comforting.  I am safe on the squares of life and by compulsively avoiding the cracks I will avoid pitfalls.  But I do get a secret thrill from stepping as close as I can to the crack, almost daring myself to break my compulsion.

Sad?  But hey, this is the twenty-first century, as long as it doesn’t cause a murder, to paraphrase Frank Zappa.  And if you examine your life you too will find it riddled with similar little rituals, routines and habits you dare not change as they may threaten the very fabric of your life.