My best friend Thommo is one of those people who can walk through a door and do real damage to her funny bone. She's thin as a whip. You could fit three of her in a normal doorway yet every time, well almost every time she walks through one, she smashes her shoulder or elbow. She's the one that will walk behind the car and crack her shins on the tow bar. The one that will cut her finger opening a tupperware container, split her lip licking an envelope or stab herself with a paper clip. She's notorious for self injury. She was ironing once in her undies and managed to burn a neat line right across her perpetually flat stomach . . . I have no idea how that happened.
Match her with me and we're an awesome combination. My claim to fame, breaking breakables. Every Christmas I'm given at least a dozen champagne glasses and if there are any left by June, I'm travelling well. I choose generically white plates because my pretty Wedgewood blue and white plates are strictly reserved for 'best' in case I smash one of the set and can't replace them. I contstantly knock handles of mugs and have a box of mismatched ones nestled in the back of my corner crockery cupboard. I was inspired to blog this as I've just broken my large pyrex mixing bowl and spent half an hour painstakingly sweeping tiny shards from the floor. Slate floors are bad for bashers. I also have a load of those milk shake glasses. The 1950's retro style ones with grooved sides but the bastards shatter like a windscreen if you so much as put them in water that's too hot or nudge the flickmixer with them while you're washing up. Just as well I bought a 16 pack on special! In fact, once, not so long ago, I had 8 generously sized asian bowls, perfect for soup, noodles, laksa, curries or even spag bol . . . only two remain and one of those is chipped. I'm a liability . . .thank goodness we don't go out much together other than our Chardy lunches on Friday . . . the world as we know it would not be safe with the two of us on the streets for any prolonged period of time. See Grandad, I wasn't joking when I suggested shipping your Sully and Cully or Cully and Sully bowls down under . . .maybe I should revert to melamine.