Hyujnm

(more pics of the flat in Grasse)

Hyujnm. Right now, that is the worst word in the world for me. I've burnt my right index finger you see. And typing "hyujnm" uses that particular finger for every single one of its letters.

Now "Ow!" is a fine word to type. I could type "Ow!" all day long. It doesn't use my right index finger at all. It feels great when I type "Ow!" Not "hyujnm" though.

"Political Freesias" is fine. As is "Wackadelic Dopers" or "Exacerbated Excesses".

"My Hymn-book Is Munjy" is a bad one. And I should definitely avoid "Hymen! Hymen! Hymen! Who has my Hymen?"

In retrospect, the key was probably not to light my finger on fire in the first place. It's easy enough to do though. All one needs is a loving attentive spouse and the temporary sabbatical of one's own brain cells.

My spouse and I are on holiday at the moment. We've rented a beautiful one bedroom flat in the French city of Grasse, eight miles Northwest of Cannes. We found it at http://www.homelidays.com/ which I'm putting in a plug for because I'm so pleased with the flat. It's lovely, well-equipped, in the centre of the old city of Grasse, and 300 Euros for the week including linen and heat. You can see the flat itself at http://grasse.2pieces.monsite.wanadoo.fr/index.jhtml.

And because we're on holiday, I stayed in bed this morning while my loving attentive spouse got up to make us some coffee. In fact, as soon as she got up, I rolled over to go back to sleep.

Except that I could hear her trying to light the stove. "Click!" -- that's the noise she made every time she pushed the stove lighting button. "Click!" I don't mind typing that; it doesn't use any of those right index finger letters. "Click! Click! Click!"

It was driving me mad. So I got up to help her. The previous night I'd spotted a lighter in the cutlery drawer and I assumed the stove starter button just didn't work.

"Let me try," I said as I entered the kitchen.

"No, I think I've got it," said my wife, pointing towards a burner at the back of the stove. "It's just that…"

"Which burner are you trying to light?" I asked.

"Well, I was trying to light the one at the front, here," she said, indicating a burner at the front of the stove.

"Okay. Let me try," I said. I held the lighter against the ring of the front burner as she turned the knob. It instantly roared alight, burning my finger. "Ow!" I said.

Actually, I said quite a few other words but they all have the letter "h" or "u" in them so I won't repeat them here.

"Are you all right?" asked my spouse as I thrust my finger under the cold water tap.

"Ow!" I repeated -- (or words to that effect).

"Sorry," she said. I tried to tell you. "I think the gas was off. I just turned it on." She gestured towards the back of the stove again. This time I spotted there was a gas valve there.

"Ah, right, that would be it," I said. "Glad I could help."

Fortunately, the flat has a lovely little kitchen with a lovely little window above the kitchen sink with a lovely view of Grasse. I spent quite a while looking at that view, leaning over the kitchen sink in my y-fronts with cold water running over my finger.

My wife, meanwhile, finished making the coffee and went back to bed.