Me and the Missus are walking to catch the train to get into work. This is pretty much our daily routine, although she insists on arriving at the platform a good 20 minutes before the train actually leaves.
Fortunately, she has successfully applied for voluntary redundancy so her working days travelling in with me are coming to an end.
‘What? Getting to the station on time?’ she asks.
‘It’s not on time. We’re ridiculously early every single morning.’
‘It amazes me that for somebody who is so obviously OCD that you seem to have a blind spot when it comes to punctuality. You are Mr Last Minute…’
‘It’s not ‘last minute’. It’s finely honed and perfectly scheduled.’
‘I just like to get there early so I get a seat and I don’t end sitting next to an idiot.’
‘Well I end up sitting next to an idiot every morning and it doesn’t upset me…’