More about the Lakes

The sun wasn't out all the time, but it didn't rain till the last night. And guess what? As we were coming back from our last walk, I had a strange sensation beneath my left heel, as if I had trodden in something squidgy. No, it wasn't what you might think: not on that occasion, anyway! The odd feeling was the heel of my boot parting company from the rest of it so, for the last mile, I had to drag along a flapping chunk of boot. I felt just like Charlie Chaplin and much fun was made of me. I loved those boots. I've never had such a comfy pair. Boo-bloody-hoo!

Here are some photos for those who aren't on Facebook, where I have posted a album. I also photographed the plywood cat I made and painted for my sister. Perhaps I should make a few more and set up a stall! I had to laugh when I saw that sign about the paths. Surely they mean Permitted?

Ullswater

Just got back from a blissful holiday at my sister's place near Ullswater in the Lake District. The sun shone, the stags roared, the trees were just turning red and gold and it was truly glorious. My only regret was that I didn't spot an elusive red squirrel. Photos tomorrow...

What if...?

I'm going up north to Cumbria tomorrow, taking my friend J. to meet my sister. I've been careful with my diet but this morning I woke up with a dreadful stomach ache and have made lots of trips to the loo.

I love visiting my sister. She's so busy with her riding, climbing, cycling and ski-ing that she and her husband are hardly ever home, so it was great to find a gap on her calender. We are having a spa day on Saturday, so what's not to look forward to?

That said, then why the bad tum? I have thought and thought and come to the conclusion that the thing at the heart of my anxiety is fear of something going wrong with my teeth while I am up there. I have two temporary fillings at present, and that tooth that has been giving me trouble for 18 months, and has prevented me from having any foreign holidays, is still infected.

As I lay in bed last night, I was getting separate twinges in five different teeth! I know most of it is psychosomatic and stress-related, but I haven't been able to banish the thing that I call 'the curse of the what-ifs'. Anyone got any advice, short of having all my teeth taken out?!

The trouble with Flad's new bed...

... is that it's not quite big enough for Flad! It has to be said that he is a very large cat, built along diplodocus lines with a small head and a bulky body, and very long legs. He has never been a climbing cat. Rather than springing onto things, he clambers his way up using his claws as crampons. So flopping into a nice, warm, soft bed is just his style (note that he still won't be parted from his tea towel). But... how to arrange those lanky limbs?

First, I tried my legs this way...

Then I tried them this way. Oops, my foot's on the floor.

Now my head's sticking out. Oh dear...

The sun's out now and my feet are almost in so I think I'll have a snooze now. But Mummy, please can you buy me a dog bed?

My Camden outfit

I felt my great charity shop animal print jacket and my leather and lycra leggings were just the thing to hit trendy Camden Town in. Got to the pub way too early, though, and felt like the old wino in the corner, as everyone else was about 20!

Flad's bed

Poor old Flad. I dropped a tea towel on the floor and he promptly commandeered it. He slept on it for days and I think it was his way of saying that bare floorboards, no matter how trendy they are, were too hard for his old bones (he's nearly 14).

Mr Grumpy (I bought him some Mr Grumpy slippers from Matalan which have turned out to be too small even though they were Size L, which has made him even grumpier, of course) slung Flad's towel in the wash. I retrieved it. I had an idea... And half an hour later, I'd found a nice, soft cat bed on the internet. My idea was to get him used to it by putting his tea towel on it, which of course has his smell on.

It arrived on Thursday. "He'll never sleep on that," smirked Mr G. Having smelled the nasty chemical smell on it which probably came from the packaging, I agreed. I washed it and put it out on the patio table to dry. But oh dear, the smell was still there.

I was out last night. I stayed with a friend following another friend's birthday (photos on Facebook). When I got back, Mr G told me very smugly that Flad hadn't gone near his bed. Well, Mr G went out. As soon as he'd gone, I rubbed the bed all over with Flad's catnip mouse, laid the tea towel on top, then put the catnip mouse on top of that. A quarter of an hour later, Flad approached, sniffed, climbed in, sniffed some more, washed himself and fell asleep. I call that a result! This time 'twas I who had the smug grin.

Hmm. WTF?

Maybe I'll give it a try, though I'm still not sure...

Aaaaah, that's better. Zzzzzzzz.....

Dentist's again

Dentist's again today. I hadn't slept well - got up before 6 - and as I sat on the tube, I thought, at least she's only going to take impressions for a crown; all I'll have to do is open wide while she pops in those nasty, jaw-shaped trays full of green putty.

Wrong. I got the green putty, but then she announced that she had to drill out the temporary filling, sculpt the tooth into the right shape, then take another impression. The first injection didn't hurt at all. 10 out of 10. The second one, on the other side of the tooth, which was that one that feels like it's coming out of the side of your head, 4 out of 10. Then we waited... and waited. My lip just hadn't gone numb enough, so then I got injection number 3, which was around 5 out of 10 on the discomfort scale.

Prior to this, sheer nerves had made me babble on about all kinds of things no normal person would tell strangers (dentist and her nurse, who has a diamond set in her incisor). After my dentist had chatted about her children, I started telling her (or rather, them, even though my words were directed at the dentist) all about how I had found my daughter after getting her adopted. I noticed two pairs of eyes widening like saucers above the blue face masks. Then I couldn't stop my motor-mouth babbling on about how much I hated Hillingdon and how I couldn't write there and how I'd come to be there in the first place (Mr Grumpy). Then I made myself look even more of an idiot by apologising for talking too much and explaining that it was just nerves. They must think I'm a loony old lady. (True, though I still don't think of myself as old, exactly, just erring on the north side of middle age.)

Finally, the drilling started. I was tensed up, digging my nails into the back of my hand, heart pounding, legs shaking, even though I had crossed one of the other to hold it down lest it suddenly kick the dentist in the instrument tray! It didn't hurt. I began to relax. Then came the worst part of all. 'Open wide.' I stretched my creaking jaws as wide as they would go, but they were forced even wider by the sheer bulk of the metal tray filled with vilest tasting putty ever, which was purplish black this time. Don't they make them in small, medium and large? I'm sure she'd used the giant-size one when a small would have done. I felt like a virgin at the gynaecologist's!

She pressed it down and it stretched so far back that it was pressing on the base of my tongue. The gag reflex kicked in and I couldn't swallow or breathe. I felt as if I were choking. 'Breathe through your nose and keep your eyes open, that's the best way of getting through this,' she said. I did it with great difficulty, saliva rattling at the back of my throat and making me feel like I was drowning. It seemed like ten minutes but was probably only three or four before she removed the gadget. Then she had to put another temporary filling on.

My shoulders and neck were aching from tension. She has booked me in for next Wednesday to have the crown fitted. I am going up to my sister's in Cumbria on Thursday. And guess what? I clean forgot to ask how much the crown was going to cost. At least five times as much as my previous dentist would charge, I'm sure. But do I fancy going back to The Beast? No, no. I prefer the gentle touch any day. And I'd rather have her neatly manicured hand and smooth wrist in my mouth than that big, hairy Greek one!