We drove to Weybourne in north Norfolk today and walked the three miles to Sheringham. Conditions were perfect: warm and sunny. Our route took us along the clifftop path, quite excitingly close to the edge. In Sheringham I bought two things: a Ronaldo's ice cream; and some brassware from an antiques shop.
I included my hand for scale: it's 7.5" high. (No, not the hand.) You might be able to see a cut on my left thumb.
It could have been worse. (Squeamish alert) I was chopping kindling with a small hand axe yesterday, doing my usual thing of holding the wood to the axe blade with my left hand, lifting the wood and the axe together, and bringing them down onto the chopping surface (a tree stump). Somehow the axe slipped off the top of the wood and landed on my thumb. My thumb was now on the chopping surface. OUCH! Had the blade been sharper I'm sure it would have sliced the tip off (urgh - I don't like to think about it). Of course, the counter argument is that had the blade been sharper it might not have slipped off the wood.
I am now painfully aware of how useful the tip of the thumb is. It's the unthinking tasks which bring one up sharp: turning on or off a tap, for example. And I couldn't open a new marmalade jar this morning for fear of opening up the wound.
It will be a while, I think, before I chop any more kindling.
(By the way, is the brass thing I bought intended to be used as a vase? Why does it have a handle?)
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