Oh, goodness, this is reminding me of the French Exchange visitor we hosted when I was about 15. She arrived with feet full of blisters from what my mother regarded as totally unsuitable shoes for a 15 year old, and her mother (who was a dressmaker) had sewn through each blister with different colour thread to drain them. She spent her first evening in the UK with her feet in a bowl of Dettol having the threads picked out by my mother who was convinced she would get blood poisoning and die on us<g>.