Its Tuesday, and I’ve had a tricky night due to a bad gut. In the end I give in and take a co-codamol which allows me to sleep until my partner has gone to work. I think I am at the dentist at 10:15 so with about an hour to go I have a shower and get myself into my jeans and something outdoor appropriate. No time for breakfast but I do measure my vitals and they are good enough. Checking in at the dentist I discover that my appointment is not until 10:30 so I settle down in the waiting area and read some more of of Kate Wilson’s Prospects. I am enjoying the book, especially the wry humour being poked at rich show business America. So although I have yet to finish it I would recommend it to folk. A holiday read perhaps?
Dead in 10:30 I get called into the dentist. I have returned to my usual dentist who has been away on maternity leave having her first son. She knows me and the family well so there is some catching up to be done. When the talking is done we get down to the business of my lost filling. After some prodding and poking I am presented with the options, a quick patch up and hope or a longer term partial crowning solution. We chat about the pro’s and con’s and I go for the longer term solution, which means I get an x-ray today followed by two appointments. One to do the foundation work and the second to stick the the new crown in. I also agree to a hygienist visit to get my teeth back up to scratch after the recent dip in tooth care. That will be Thursday, giving me a rest day.
On the way home knowing I have a plan I drop into the village shop to get a paper, nibbles and some cash. having got home with my bag of swag I clear the kitchen, put the bin out for tomorrow and do todays crosswords. I do not feel like much to eat so nibble some pub mix and then have soup while watching the business end of Wimbledon unwind. Feeling more comfortable I watch the tennis until I realise that the men’s quarter finals are going to be long games. At this point the gas boiler service men arrive. I say men but one of them looks like a school boy, clearly this is the apprentice. He is asked by the older guy if he has done a boiler like ours before. Apparently he has so he is given the honour of doing ours. Neither of them want a drink so I leave them to get on with it while I return to the tennis. The slug fest continues at Wimbledon as I listen to the master and the apprentice giving my boiler the annual going over. Eventually the master pops into the lounge with my certificate of boiler worthiness and tells me all is in working order and that the “magno filter” had very little in it, which means my radiators are sludge free. I’m proud of our system for doing so well. The master and apprentice leave in the aptly number plated van and leave me to get on with drafting the blog and watching the tennis.
The tennis is taking a long time and I drift preferring instead to read. It is not until late afternoon that I realise that the first semi final of the European football championship is on tonight. Spain take on France it should be a good game. I feel like writing again although I am not quite sure what yet, I suspect poetry, inspired by a quote that a friend sent me as a personalised birthday gift. I am also aware that the Americans want me to sign up to having my books as audio books, at a price of course, but I am unsure about it. It is something to reflect upon. As it turns out Spain wins, I take my night meds and go to bed hoping for a slow Wednesday to rest in.
