Tooth update

Was seen this morning by my third dentist in four weeks (my original one, who I left as I was fed up with the long journey, the in between one who left me to suffer over Easter, and now this third one). He was a bright and breezy young Asian guy called Phiz, with a shock of pop star black hair and a warm, friendly manner and in no time at all he had drilled, rodded the root canals with the energy of a Dyno-rod man and shoved them full of antibiotic dressings. I'm going back in a couple of weeks to have the tooth crowned and I pray that that will be the end of the saga. For now.

Teeth lurk like enemies hiding round corners choosing their moment to strike, which is usually just before you're due to fly off on holiday. They seem to know. They grin an evil grin and think, 'Maximum pain, maximum disturbance.' I once attended the dentist for a normal check-up the day before I was going to Spain. Or not, as it turned out, for an x-ray found that my wisdom tooth was full of infection and about to erupt. In fact, said my dear old dentist, it would probably have exploded in agony on the plane. There was nothing to be done but yank it out and give me antibiotics. And I was told, with wagging finger, that it would be better if I didn't go on my five-day trip.

As it turned out, it would have been the last time I'd have seen my friend John in Spain as he died suddenly of a stroke a couple of months later. It was also the last time I saw my dentist, God rest his soul. He died, too. And the last time I saw my wisdom tooth. They do say that bad things happen in threes... At least I'm still here, touch wood!