I'm in New Zealand, visiting family and friends and truly enjoying a holiday in the area I grew up. I even managed a drive past my old schools.

A friend from said school had an aversion to fingernails, or the inappropriate disposal thereof. His grandmother, as grandmothers do, had chastised him for cutting his nails onto the floor and kicking them away. She told him that if you didn't put your fingernail cuttings into the rubbish that upon your death, you would become a ghost, stuck in limbo, forced to wander the earth until you had found and disposed of your offcuts.

I loved this story. Not because I believe in ghosts or that I have a fanatical concern for my fingernails. Quite the opposite, in fact.

What better way to ensure one's return to a place than flicking blackened fingernail offcuts into the ether; a guaranteed second look at that beautiful beach, serene bushland or windswept mountain. Now, where did I leave those clippers?