Hard as nails

For the last four weeks I have had the most fabulous nails. Not acrylic, manicured or even painted, just fabulous. As I used to; back when I was at college and later whilst working in galleries. Long, natural, unpainted nails. The sort of nails that are as long beyond the finger-end as they are back to the cuticle. the sort of nail that fascinate people and lead them to say things like "Are they real?"

It has been most enjoyable. They click satisfyingly on door-frames and hard surfaces, they make little papery sounds against one another, and feel as smooth and as cool as bone against your skin. Of course they would be no good used in anger against someone else's skin; they's just tear off. But boy do they look like they could do some damage!

Now the only reason they've gotten like this is because of my sick leave. No lifting, no driving and lots of sitting around. And with no work; no pounding away on a keyboard, no fumbling with huge bunches of keys, no lugging boxes of ice-creams, or rummaging through bags of change to chip or bend them back. Heavenly.

But off they have to come. My sister is wallpapering her dining room and has requested my support. She's not done any wallpapering for a long time, then again neither have I, and we have most certainly not done DIY together in an age. I am going to interfere, she is going to get cross and we will most assuredly shout at one-another as some point.

My sister knows all this as well as I do, but this is her solution to the challenge of keeping my mind off my partner's health scare. So tonight, off shall come my invalids' nails, so that tomorrow no nails will be inadvertently poked through any drops of expensive wallpaper.

Therapy.

Thanks sis!