What Katie did next

Christ! If I'm not marrying the execrable Billy Joel, I'm cycling naked down a road in America at the age of 83

Katie Lee, 83, decided a few years ago that the townsfolk of Jerome,
Ariz., needed a good laugh. So she rode her bicycle down the town's main street
wearing nothing but socks and a helmet.

She's got blisters on the soles of her feet

Yes, it's that time again! Time to put on your flip flops and reacquaint your feet with agony as you discover ever more new and interesting places to develop great pustules and sores. After months of sensible shoe-wearing my softened feet have taken the summer footwear policy badly and now almost every inch of them is covered with a red welt, gaping wound or weeping sore. And you can guarantee that by the time everything's healed up and toughened up, it will be time to put my socks back and protect my toes from the cold. And then comes the peeling as my newly thick-skinned tootsies shed their protective layer of hide and revert back to their original soft leather finish. And so the circle of life goes on.

Sour Milk

I wrote a very hasty post on Shiny yesterday about binary manicures (with a very weak gag in it, I admit). In doing so I apparently managed to offend nail varnish wearing men the world over. The blogger I've upset, Milk, emailed to ask "Are you saying it's wrong for males to wear nail varnish?" And pointed out that "claiming that certain aspects of life are out of bounds to either males or females is rather base sexism". What he failed to grasp, of course, is that I write for a site that's aimed at women and was merely distinguishing between the super-geek girls and those females who are just casual gadget admirers. That it had nothing to do with men at all was apparently too hard for Milk to compute (after all, isn't it always about men?).

Exhausted

Dear beloved Sister 4, you know how you told us that there was a bit of loose plastic hitting the tyre on your car that "sounds like the exhaust's coming off". Well, that's the sound of your exhaust coming off and nothing to do with the innocent bit of loose plastic. How many days it had been slowly sounding its irregular death knell I'm not sure, but didn't it just have to pick the day that we'd borrowed the car and were bombing down the motorway, to finally drop its unwanted metal piping. Luckily, the nice AA Man arrived in 20 minutes and told us just to drive it home: "just keep the windows shut and stop if you feel sleepy".