Kitchen items are unsafe during an art attack. Two chopping boards have succumbed to artistic endeavour. A spatula is scarred with acrylic paint. And the seagrass mat suffered from surgery in one corner.

Once upon a time, long, long ago, when the ‘net landed, receiving an email was oh, so exciting! Likewise, the texts on my first mobile phone caused much awe and wonder.

Last week I received a letter. A real, hold-in-your-hand, news-filled, handwritten letter. This retro-communication had the same effect as the emerging technologies of yester-year. Awe, wonder and excitement.

Apparently I’ve been suffering from stress.
In my foot.
This explains the pain, which I should have recognised for what it was long before I did, and which was identified this morning, by a doctor, as a probable stress fracture of the fifth metatarsal. It’s more or less mended now, thanks to a very idle weekend. I have returned the crutches: admittedly I would have used them more often had the nurse used the word ‘fracture’ last week. Many years ago, I fractured the fifth on the other foot. Fortunately, this time, I was not plastered. How inconvenient would that have been?