This is what happens when you stop boozing. You lose all your points of reference. You're operating in a strange demi-monde, peopled by strangers, different perspectives and ways of doing things. There I was, slicing a raw fennel with my latest acquisition from the market, a kitchen utensil with quite the sharpest blade in the Western hemisphere. One moment I was happily slicing, the next I was pulling the top of my thumb off the blade. Blood every-sodding-where. Showing unusual presence of mind, I stuck my thumb in my mouth and started sucking and then hunted for a piece of string (Mrs Combo was at work). No string so I cut the strap off the camera and tied that tight around the digit as a make-do tourniquet. Half a kitchen roll later Mrs C pitched up and took me to A&E. Such is my accident-prone nature that I am virtually on first name terms with the doctors and nurses. Three stitches and home. That'll learn me.
5 comments:
The only proper use for a Mandoline is to accompany "Just one Cornetto" whilst sung in a gondola.
It's the fennel Ron. If you'd been sorting out an onion like the rest of us it would never have happened.
I bought a new Sabatier filiting knife last week. Must remember to hide if if Ron comes to visit. It really is as sharp as a razor. So sharp he could take his finger clean off and not feel a thing.
Rory Gallagher. Did he cook?
Oops!
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