Last year I wrote of the various physical atrocities my feet endured while walking the sweat soaked ground of South East Asia.
I am glad to report my feet have got off lightly in France. My legs however have been ritually humiliated. It was during my last mounting of a bus seat that I thought I would share some of my recent indignities. This particular seat had an inconvenient and ill designed arm rest. Not only did it not rest arms it gouged hamstrings that wandered close to it.
The couch at our apartment took a large tract of skin from my shin on my very first day in France after perhaps more than healthy gin indulgence I think I was making haste to retrieve my wizards robe or another magical device.
The bunk bed I currently sleep in has two detachable roll out guards which deliver choice blows around the clock as I scale the ladder to rest my feet. The irony is not lost.
Perhaps I have frogs legs?