The other day I had one of those blood-boiling moments that sometimes coincide with leaving the house. You know the sort of thing: I was trying to retrieve a package from the UK’s most poorly sited postal sorting office; I got stuck in traffic, couldn’t park and found myself at the back of a long queue leading to a window staffed, it seemed, by no one. I had a choice of standing either just inside or just outside the automatic double doors, which opened and closed continuously due to my presence. I started to judder like a washing machine spinning a wet duvet.
According to The Truth About Stress (BBC1), I was experiencing a classic fight-or-flight reaction – adrenaline rush, elevated heart rate – which may have been of