When I woke up this morning my head ached. The sky was steel grey, the weather dank and miserable, a sense of impending doom hung over me, although it could just have been the cold and damp. By the time I’d got downstairs I realised my throat was sore and my nose felt tickly. Somehow cold germs had made their way through Mac’s obsessive hand gel and disinfectant haze and I had caught a cold. That explained the mad decision to apply for a call centre job then, the balance of my mind was disturbed by cold germs.