My body seems to know things I do not know. Or, at least, I have observed it’s critically timed messages (rebellions?). I guess there is a battle for supremacy between my brain and my body. My brain can think and generate thoughts and words. But my body can call the shots. Let me recount an instance. Last year, I gave my first conference paper in Newcastle. Not only did I speak words, I danced a section of it. When I woke up very early on the morning of the conference, to catch the train to Newcastle, I realised I had very itchy toes. Athlete’s bloody foot! I hadn’t had it for years! I had my outfit planned out, which involved a trusty pair of blue t-bar shoes with a two-inch heel. Closed toe. So, I put on a pair of ugly, comfy Crocs sandals and took the pretty shoes in my bag. I switched the shoes over just outside the conference venue. On my way up the stairs to where the conference was held, an ugly sandal fell out my bag. I did not notice until a man ran after me with ugly shoe. I was mortified! Not only was I nervous at the ridiculously maschocistic nature of my presentation, but my body was telling me who was boss! There is nothing like my own body to make me look stupid at any moment!