“I can just throw that away for you if you want…” offered the chirpy, hand wrangling lady.
“Nooooo!” I screamed (to myself).
Yes, after two months in its thrall, I have somehow developed a sort of horrid affection for my thumb capturer. After all, it was only trying to help me, right? So I squirreled it away on the pretence of keeping it for sport: “just in case”. She agreed that that might actually be a good idea. When my joint’s regained its former power and I can no longer justify wearing it, I think I’ll have to make some sort of installation piece out of this thing. Turner Prize, here I come.