In Fashion
The glob of goo shot out from the bottle. It missed my hand and left a tacky tail of liquid on my loafer. I grunted, like the guy in the cubicle beside me, and looked for a sheet of paper towel to remove the dribble. There was none. With little choice, I wiped my shoe on the back of my ankle and exited the public convenience. I'm finding sanitising to be an unpredictable business. Venturing from the cafe to the butcher and onwards to the baker, I am obsessed with sourcing stable bottles of ethanol-infused lotion. A small bottle of sanitiser hangs from a carabiner attached to my jeans. It's my backup accessory of choice in these COVID -laced times. Busy hands used to require Solvol and Geoffrey was once told to wash his mitts, so nothing has really changed except for fashion. Rubbing two hands together on approach to the pub is no longer a gesture of expectation, it's a race against time. With cupped palms cradling a puddle of germ-busting fluid, magician-like hand mov...