my toenails

My toenails came off yesterday! Painted a nice summery pink, apart from the fact that they are no longer attached to my feet, they are in perfect condition.

I put the situation out to tender today - what to do with Jess' toenails?? And I have to say, I was impressed by the calibre of suggestions.

The one that first struck a cord, was to create a Damien Hirst-style interest piece for our flat, involving a sort of animal/human fusion foot.

The second suggestion was initially disappointing - make a christmas angel with a toenail-halo. You see, these are not feeble strips of toenail suited to halo-making, but whole nails that are almost rhombus by dimension.

But the suggestion got me thinking... The Hatcher family is somewhat poor in terms of nativity scene characters, but what better addition to our current feeble collection than a bishop, reigning supreme, with a pink rhombus-shaped bishop's hat?!

In all honesty, I'm not sure either of these suggestions is entirely viable. The good Mr Scott might have something to say if I were to start decorating his lovely new batchelor pad with ex-bodily appendages, and equally, the elderly german relative might take offence were she expected to kneel for a dead toenail.

Thus, further suggestions most welcome. Until that time, I shall continue to keep them in my special pot.

Life after the marathon... and my next challenge.

I can't say life strayed too far from normality in the months leading up to the great race, but it was initially refreshing and, lately, has become rather boring, not to have something to make me feel uncomfortable about. Understand that I essentially spent my marathon training period not running, as the times when I was training were far overshadowed and outnumbered by the times when I was not, which made me uncomfortable. And I think I liked that.

What this boils down to is every person's need to challenge themselves.

I am now about to break into a verse of that excellent Sound of Music song, "Climb eve'ry mountain..."

I'm not sure how much I can say right now, but in April 2008, I will hopefully be part of a small group of people setting out to cycle 4,500 miles across Southern and Eastern Africa. Right now, it's looking like a 3 1/2 month-long journey.

I have never been to Africa. I don't think that matters too much, though. What might matter more is the fact that I don't own a bike, and my longest cycle ride to date did not take me out of Oxford city centre (and Oxford is not large). Apparently weight training is the thing. Oh, and apparently I am likely to lose the skin on the inside of my finger tips, which might be handy for evading US customs, but not so much for bushcraft.

If anyone were ever to read this, my blog, my stream of wordy trickle, from start to finish, they would see that my initial marathon-running thoughts prioritised very similar issues. They went something like this: "So I'm running the marathon. First things first, I think my toenails might fall off. Oh, and did I mention people often have troubles controlling their bowels after X number of miles? And I might have to wet myself."

Issue avoidance is a wonderful thing. Can you tell I'm shit-scared?