Sunlight

I've seen a new dentist because my usual one is away. Your x-rays are very interesting, she says to me. She is not like my other dentist. She is attentive and grounded. She attends to the most pressing problem and asks if I have any medical situation of which she should be aware. I tell her about my situation; why do dentists always ask questions when you have your mouth open with an instrument poking about inside it? But anyway, she hears me. Auto-immune disorder, she says. I nod. Before I leave she tells me that she would like me to have a thorough examination, more x-rays and a special kind of procedure involving (I am guessing) much prodding about before considering any crowns, bridge work etc. I tell her I don't want bridge work, that I want only what is absolutely necessary. A look passes between us. It is potent. Good. Afterwards I wonder what it was made of, the look. Compassion (her to me) and truth (I spoke, she acknowledged). Something else I can't quite name but it brings to mind the "passionless love, impartial but intense" of Thom Gunn's poem, Sunlight. Not bad for a quick once-over with an unfamiliar dentist, but such encounters are often found in unexpected places. There is something restorative about the kindness of strangers.

The summer is opening up - much heat, which I find difficult. But I was longing for an end to the cold. This year we will not be spending our usual week at the Edinburgh Festival because of Brighton and the fact that we haven't yet spent a decent chunk of time in the new flat. Son is going to be performing in the Festival again so if you are there look out for The Harmonics because they are going to be brilliant.

I might astrally project myself there to see them.

It has taken me several days to put these sentences together. I think I need a break and a couple of Kit-Kats.