“What’s all this white dust?” she said, as she continued to scrutinize the tiny implement. I reached for my glasses and said, “White dust up my nose? Here, let me look”. She was right, the Ear, Nose and Throat Specialist wasn’t seeing things, the tube was dusty – no, pasty, coated in what appeared to be a flour and water type of gluey substance. I smelled it and it was odorless. I had no explanation other than I used to sniff hell of a lot of glue. But that was years ago – when I was a teenager – we used to meet in a bandstand in the park… I spilled the beans, named names: Bostik; Uhu; Evostick; Superglue; Gorilla. Strange thing: I can’t recall the names of any of my fellow-sniffers (friends?) yet I can recall all the brands of glue I abused – as well as a fair few of my preferred felt-tipped tipples, of the time. Perhaps the names of glues just stick. Someone should research ‘Adhesives and Memory’ (Bergsonesque). She sent me for a brain scan.
I have a chin-up bar in my hall, from which, first thing every morning, I do one hundred, two-armed chin-up’s (in ten minutes); from then on through out the day, whenever I feel the urge, I reach for the bar and perform other altogether more complicated gymnastic maneuvers (one-finger-pull-ups, front levers, lock-offs and dead-hangs etc).
The camera’s self-timer was still running on ‘continuous’ (taking a picture every four seconds) as I fumbled to release it from the tripod, when it made this accidental exposure of the interior of my powdered nose - of the light magnesium carbonate I must unknowingly inhale (and remember, you become heavy breather when you are pulling) at least one hundred times a day, each time my nose becomes level with my chalked fingers (yet, inhaled it is, as I never pick my nose).