I have had to get one of my toes looked at. It might just be a case of having walked my tooties off while away. Hubby reckoned I had a large corn on the underside of the toe.  It did not take kindly to pressure and I was not walking as much as I would like because of the sore pain; I was seriously limping. 

Thursday last week I booked a domiciliary appointment with a podiatrist for the earliest appointment I could get. This podiatrist is new to the area and has had to delay the opening of her clinic as the podiatrist's clinical chair is arriving three weeks later than expected. She turned up with her clever, wheelie box of tricks, the next morning.  I was never so happy as I was last Friday, to see trimming/digging blades and drills.

Exposing my problem to her professional gaze, the Podiatrist exclaimed, "That's a whopper of a corn you've got there!"  Then she set very cautiously to work.

Apropos of the toe, we were in the café of a large well known, quite genteel department store in Edinburgh, when hubby asked me to show him the offending digit. So, there I was with my foot up on his knee and him taking a carefully focussed digital picture. When I looked up, the café floor staff had all gathered to wipe tables in one area - around us- with either bemused looks or great big grins on their faces. What else could I do but smile back?