On the walk down to exercise class, we were accompanied by the sound of ‘Squeak, clump, squeak, clump’ coming from the general direction of K’s feet. As I couldn’t decide whether it was coming from her left trainer, her feet or her ankle bone, I’ll have to oil the lot just in case.
Yesterday turned out to be one of those days again. Analysing its contents I realised that it was for the most part, centred around feet. It began with this Granny trying her best to cut her very long toe nails. Toe nails that have during the course of her sixty six years turned from ordinary toe nails to something akin to steel. Tried the nail cutters. No joy. Tried some scissors. They bent. Nearly went searching in desperation for a hacksaw. After resorting to using the very sharp (had horrible visions of being whisked off to hospital at this point with severed toe) kitchen scissors I somehow managed to make some headway and cut them shorter.
I do hope that none of you are eating whilst reading this blog. If so, you had better not read the rest of it until you have finished and it has all been thoroughly digested. You see, it includes some horrible pictures of one of my feet. Yes, thankfully you don’t have to suffer the sight of both of them. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. Besides which I would then loose the only two readers I have. I can just imagine that you are all wondering why I am featuring some pictures of one of my feet? Have I finally flipped? Did I drop my camera whilst snapping something fantastic and it took a snap of my foot as it fell to the floor?