So there I was, running down the steps into the tube station with coins in one hand, Oyster card in the other, when the last voicemail came through. It was my editor. "Can you write a piece about the Go Slow movement today? You need to stop rushing about. It's the new thing, apparently."
That stopped me in my tracks. The very notion of slowing down is completely alien. And it's not just me. The speed of passengers racing down the stairs either side of me, and their barely concealed huffs as they were forced to deviate centimetres from the fastest route from A to B in order to accommodate the irritating woman standing still, made it pretty clear that frantic has become the norm.