And then there is this one:
Anyone who remembers their science lessons will know that if you touch one of the last of these two examples you get, quite literally, a hair-raising reaction.
Yesterday I was doing some recording with Jon for On the Track and it seems that I am just one lump of static protoplasm without any need for scientific input. It took hours to try and get rid of the static that oozed from my very being - even trying the 'strip off to my underwear scenario' in case it was my clothing that was causing the problem - but to no avail. Apart from getting a trifle chilly that is, but at least you can't accuse me of not giving my all for the cause. Luckily it was a Sunday afternoon and no-one was expected to come a'calling. If someone had turned up then I would have had to perform a delicate petit jeté into the sitting room (just as I did have to do anyway when Biggles ran off with my temporarily discarded jumper like a wolf with a deer carcass).
Then in the middle of our efforts a book threw itself off a shelf, but I am not quite sure that that little incident had anything to do with me .... or did it?