Mmm, Parma

Why would I not move to the Home of Ham? That aside, last night, with one foot in bandages and the other an attractive shade of tarred plum, I was cooking for my friend Alex and burned my right hand while holding a hot pan with an oven glove. This all seems rather unfair - if one chooses to run with a torn ligament then limping strikes me as appropriate; and the falling drunk out of a bus incident led to well-deserved swelling. But burning my hand really quite badly through an oven glove is surely a little unjustified. I now have an attractive blister on the pad beneath my right index finger where I gripped the grill pan - and my amazing seventies-inspired, Urban-Outfitters-in-Seattle-bought hot pad is clearly more of a designer item than one intended for actual cooking. Pah. My left hand (which is, incidentally, the one I prefer) is now my only limb without an injury. I will try and avoid mincing machines and/or combat situations in the next few days.