Yes, its fair to say that my hands are weathered. They have been dried by the sun and wind and by clay and by gardening and sailing without gloves. They are not beautiful hands but they are strong and practical , which is why I like them. They are who I am. If I was ashamed of my hands, I might as well be ashamed of myself. They say "I am related to my grandmother", who had the same hands. They say "I am a maker and a fixer and I am not overly bothered with appearances". Setting aside the kernel of self which sits at the centre of my being, these hands are all me. I guess if I had to be a character in a movie, I would probably be Thing....but more gnarly and paint splattered.