Sharps

I've got some very sharp things in my kitchen. My Henckel knives are fantastically sharp, but even the humble Super-U potato peeler has quite an edge to it. As such, I'm always hacking bits off my fingers when I'm in a hurry. I once sliced quite a lot of the end of one of my fingers off. I'm well stocked with those blood-stopping plasters. There's sometimes quite a lot of, you know, meat, in my veggie stir-fries (only joking, vegetarian guests).

I probably shouldn't be let loose in my own kitchen.

This weekend, I sliced through a nail, about a quarter of the way down my left index finger, with the potato peeler - so it was cut at an angle. I broke the skin slightly, but it was mainly the nail, with the fear that it would come off completely and painfully pull away from the skin. I put a plaster on it to stop me catching it on things, but it was no good, because I couldn't play guitar.

So I took it off and tried painting nail varnish over the cut to strengthen it (my wife only had some in a fetching pink). But that didn't work because I caught it on the sheet getting into bed last night and the broken edge got jammed into the soft and sensitive part of my finger, the bit that the nail usually protects. Such pain from such a tiny thing!

I'm going to have to bit the bullet today and cut it completely off. I'm such a wimp. But, you know, on that model of the human body based on nerves and senses, the index finger is the size of a club, innit?