Uphill struggle, downhill slide

It's now twelve days since I had my tooth out and I am still in pain. My gum is red and angry, it looks as if it is getting a head on it like a gumboil, and I am in permanent pain and can still only eat slop and mush. And what sympathy do I get from Mr Grumpy? None at all. He believes he has the copyright on tooth troubles and nobody has a right to complain about teeth but him - as if it's my fault that he hasn't seen a dentist since 1968!!! The reason for this being that when he was in gaol following a drunken fight which carved his chin up, he got toothache, had the tooth pulled by a prison dentist and the nerve was left exposed, resulting in days of agony. This left him with a complete phobia about dentists.

Now, I think I have far more right to a dental phobia than him, because not only have I, too, suffered the screaming agony of an exposed nerve in the past, but I was brave enough to continue seeing the dentist and I have also been through all the bad experiences you have read about here, and far more besides. But that's him. I am not allowed to moan about headache, stomach ache, a cold, a sprained ankle... I must endure it all in silence, because he didn't moan and grumble following his strokes, so what right have I to make a fuss about my own much more minor ailments? That's what he says.

So here I am, sitting in my room which, despite the sunshine outside, is only 10 degrees C inside, trying to edit a friend's novel, with a huge blob of Corsadyl Gel crammed into my cheek. The dentist said I might have a bone splinter working its way out. It certainly feels like it.

I dared to voice a complaint about Mr G's precious house this morning. I went to get an envelope, only to find that every single envelope in the packet had its flap glued down and was useless. There is only one thing that does that: damp. So I marched into the kitchen where Mr G was, crumpling envelopes angrily and muttering that the house must be damp to have caused this, and within moments he was on his feet demanding that I took back my unjust words. He tried to force me to say, 'This house is not damp,' as if I were a schoolgirl writing lines in detention. I refused. "I have a right to say what I want. What else could cause my envelopes to glue themselves together? You give me another reason," I said, quite calmly, but he wouldn't let it go and he sulked for the rest of the morning. He did give me one of his envelopes. "A pound," he said as he handed it to me. He'll have a bloody long wait for it!

Yesterday was a bad day, too. I went into London and viewed two flats, both lovely and both of which I could have lived in. The second was £20,000 cheaper and had glorious views so that was the one I decided on. The agent told me he'd rather I didn't put in an offer instantly, in case I changed my mind next day, and told me to call him on Monday. Then, before I had even reached the tube station on my way home, he sent me a text message to say someone who had seen it an hour before me had just offered the full asking price. I was absolutely gutted. I couldn't afford the other one as the agent had told me they wouldn't accept lower offers, and so I had wasted an entire day.

I got to Paddington Station, ran for a train, got it with seconds to spare... then came an announcement saying there was a signal failure and there were no trains to Hayes for the foreseeable future. I was dead tired. Depressed and exhausted. Mr G was already waiting for me at Hayes. I rang him, he was cross. I then got back on the tube and a whole hour later I got to Hilllingdon, almost staggering with tiredness and asked if he would pick me up. He did. It was really nice of him. If he hadn't, I would have faced half an hour on a bus and a long walk with a heavy bag. Containing, amongst other things, a bottle of wine.

Now we come to the 'downhill' part of the title. I drank half last night and shall have the other half tonight. Mr G has insisted on cooking lamb, which I can't eat as I can't chew. So dinner will be mashed potato, gravy and wine. Nice!