I reckon I have an above average level of morbid curiosity about things, especially if they are slightly abnormal, like those deep ocean fish with the big teeth and dangly luminescent things, the elephant man or teratomas.

I watched a programme on these once, it was fascinating. A teratoma is basically a tumour that has cells in it which can grow into teeth, hair, eyeballs, jawbones or even little tiny hands. Teratoma means 'monstrous tumour'. They are also called germ cell tumours and are pretty rare.

Anyway, whilst googling away I found a link to a blog where someone has knitted one of these things. Quite amazing what people get up to in their spare time! Click here to see the blog entry - there is even a link providing you with the instructions, just in case you are taken by the urge to knit your very own teratoma one Sunday afternoon....













NB: for those with weak stomachs, I would advise against googling 'teratoma' to see what a real one looks like.

First things first, I *am* still alive (just), which is obviously good news for some-including me I think. I've obviously been leading a tres boring life though, because I've had nothing worth writing about. However, now the tables have turned! What with dreaming about my dog talking to me and losing my passport (again) I'm sure you'll all agree that it's time I blogged.

So. I went up to Edinburgh for the weekend and took my passport (for i.d. you understand, not because I thought maybe there would be passport control at the airport....honest guv). Went to the cinema, came back, packed on Sunday night, no passport. Quelle surprise! My first thought was "S*@t, I really can't afford £90 for a new passport!", closely followed by "My mum is going to kill me if she gets another call to say someone has found my passport". As the great Oscar Wilde might say "To lose one passport may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose it twice looks like carelessness." Luckily my guardian angel must be smiling down on me again because the lovely people at Cineworld picked it up and, yes, called my mum. I'm not sure if it was a wry smile or the grinding of her teeth that I could hear in her voice when she phoned me to say they had it. Perhaps I should just sellotape it to my hand next time.

As if that weren't enough, I had a very strange dream that I could all of a sudden understand exactly what my dog, Tess, was saying to me. We had a pretty good chat and it seems that she had been waiting some time for me to be able to communicate with her. Very very odd indeed.

On top of that, I just bought a new hot water bottle, (yes, I left the old one in Scotland by accident) which is lovely and furry. I must have woken up three or four times last night convinced that the warm and furry thing that my hand just brushed against was Tess, who had somehow managed to unlock her cage, open both the kitchen door and my bedroom door and climb into bed with me.... I think I might have actually stroked it a couple of times.

*sigh*

Spot the difference...