In India it was fine eating with my hands. I read an interview with the Indian inventor of the wrist watch phone. He said it was inspired from when he couldn't answer his phone as his hand was dripping with chicken curry. He said in the interview, "You know how it is". Yes, I do, dripping. I felt his pain. My love Suresh, once told me God had clearly intended me to be born Indian as I was such a natural at massaging together my breakfast banana, popadom and rice. Not at the same time as he was trying to massage my feet.
But three days of knife and fork at home has clearly spoilt me. Or maybe I should have known not to paint my nails blue before eating a croissant.
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