All priorities are relative.

Sometimes body language is all you need.

I was at the Flinders Street train station and felt the call of nature, so much so that I found myself contemplating the dreaded train station toilets. No matter where you go in the world, they're all the same. It could be the Paris Metro, the London Tube or somewhere in New Delhi, Cairo or New York - regardless of location or wealth, train station toilets all maintain the same exacting standards of putrid filth and dodgyness.

I remember when I was a kid in Noo Zulland, visiting my dad in Auckland. I was waiting to take the train back to my home town and needed the loo. The Auckland train station is in a beautful old building but beauty or no, the trail of blood leading down to the women's toilets convinced me that I could just cross my legs and wait.

Fast-forward a dozen or so years to today and my present dilemma. I thought I could hold on but the accursed train was even later than it usually is (thanks Connex!) so, after much hopping around, I finally gave in and strode purposefully towards the toilets. I had just reached the door to the toilets when a stream of five women ran past me in the other direction, holding handkerchiefs, bags, shirtsleeves or whatever came to hand to their noses.

It's funny how every urgent task is, at the end of the day, relative to your current situation. I may have been desperate for the toilet but in that moment I realised that yes, i could wait just that little bit longer. I'm sure there's a moral in there somewhere.