In praise of - heated butter knives.

AS MY friends will readily attest, I make a hash of everything.

I'm handless, gormless, clueless. There's a habitual mismatch between hand, eye and brain.

Take an example. There are five of us in a restaurant. The waitress brings a basket of breid and a dish of butter. Everybody wires in. Everybody manages to spread the butter smoothly on their breid. Except me.

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