Friday, September 28, 2012

In The Teeth (3)

Well, one knew at the outset that when committing to the post-a-day task there would be days when it might feel better to say nothing at all.  This is one of those.  Let the facts speak for me:

I have been to darkest Kent to visit the dentist, an hour's journey each way, plus half an hour in gridlocked traffic.

I made this journey because the dentist has the virtues of being good at what he does and sensitive to one's condition.

I have paid £120 for him to fix something on a tooth restoration.

The thing he fixed has just broken off.

It is probably my fault for biting my nail too vigorously.

I will have to do it all again next week.

But I may not have the wherewithal.

Post-exertional exhaustion does not necessarily give one a good perspective on this kind of thing.

Be seeing you.


Mim said...

Dear Signs:

Belated Happy Birthday.

And good luck with your tooth.

A good dentist is worth his weight in silver, gold or amalgam.

All the best from rainy Boston . . .

Anna MR said...

Oh you poor honey – what a totally shite day that was…

…yet the way you write about it, there is a wry laugh there somewhere, a desperation-laugh.

You are a trooper, lass, you are.