Existentialism

Sometimes you can’t quite put your finger on it. Then I read about Mauro Brunetti. He has put his finger on it. Mr Brunetti is suing his local Italian train company for causing him ‘existential damage’.

The newspaper reports that Mr Brunetti is ‘so exasperated by the constant uncertainty of whether his train will arrive on time that he sometimes wonders if his life has any value or meaning.’

How that resonates with anyone who has stood sodden and whipped by the wind at a bus-stop wondering whether indeed a bus will ever arrive and if it does will it stop? One night, I stood in the aforementioned state for 10 minutes before a bus appeared on the horizon. I stuck my hand out to stop the bus but, oddly, it seemed to pick up speed and, yes, it swept past me. I was so distressed I thought about returning home and missing the art event I’d been invited to attend, and so frustrated I kicked a bollard in a way that suggests that yobbish behaviour is not the exclusive domain of the yob. Ten minutes later another bus appeared. This time I stood in the road to stop it, and wondered if this is what it takes. The driver said she’d never seen anyone do that before. When I told her my tale of woe, she said: ‘Probably the other driver didn’t see you.’ Quite.