Today I am going to the dentist; two reasons one I have been having terrible toothache and the woman up the road with drawn on eyebrows says its just because I don't clean my teeth properly; I am seeking a second opinion! Secondly I broke one of my teeth on pheasant shot last weekend; a middle class accident if ever I heard one. We had been congratulating ourselves on our bargain haul of game from our visit to Norfolk where they have proper butchers but now the repair is likely to cost hundreds. Typical Trainor luck.
It's one of the veneers I had done a few years ago and it's right at the front. I forget about it but Stewart feels the need to tell everyone as if to say no she is not usually this freaky; she just doesn't chew carefully. People are very sympathetic and it's clearly easier than empathising about my lungs as you can't see them.
The conversation with the dentist is going to be strange; the achy one he will want to save and do all sorts of painful and expensive root canal stuff I suspect. Save for what I will have to consider probably not a toothsome old age; so I may press for a quick extraction; but vanity will out on the broken one; it must be restored so for a little longer I look relatively flawless and people don't feel the need to look in the other direction and feel sorry for me...or for Stewart.
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