Have I Broken My Toe?

…is a question I have been asking myself for the past two days, ever since, while crossing the kitchen to peel a carrot over the bin, I kicked a chair hard.  The fourth toe of my left foot took the brunt.

On balance, I’m guessing it’s not broken, because a) the toe still seems to be straight b) there’s no clicking sound when I wiggle it and c) I haven’t run a temperature or thrown up.  It is, however, as shiny as a raven’s wing.

I must be adjusting my posture because when I swam this evening various tendons and muscles were tighter than usual.

Last night I made a sponge to cheer myself up.  24hrs in the fridge have made it dense and tight:

The jam is a) raspberry and b) posh and c) expensive.  It is a good investment.

I grow more convinced that the start of making a cake is the most important moment.   Soften the butter well.   Cream it with the sugar until they are one, without a hint of grittiness.  Beat the mixture until it is as light as the froth on the crest of a wave.  This is the baker’s mirror, signal, manoeuvre.

2kms swum on Tuesday, 1.5kms this evening.