...ruffles...

Highlight of my week, if it can be described as such, was a trip to the dentist. I haven't been for a long time (longer than I'd told them). It wasn't because I was scared or because of the expense; it just fell off my radar. Nothing hurt, nothing wobbled, so what did I need a dentist for? Like Wikes, the builders place, I know what it does but until I need to do any re-pointing (whatever that is), I'm not likely to go in.

I know it's not as simple as that, so I went along and found out that my teeth were all in place, no cavities and my gums were OK. I needed to see a hygienist, which I kind of expected.

I'm pretty sure hygienists didn't exist when I last went; there were just dentists. I expected the her to be a kindly women with a a high powered toothbrush. And that she'd give me a thoroughly satisfying deep polish. A bit like going for a massage, just in my mouth.

The first thing she did was to put a mirror in my face and scrape out a solid lump which I originally thought to be an extra tooth but proved to be tartar. She put various sonic, pointy implements in my mouth and I actually began to feel individual teeth rather than one continuous blade around the mouth.

Whilst she scraped away she basically carbon dated my life - that I used to drink a lot of fizzy drinks, that I've only been using an electric toothbrush for a short while, that I once ate mussels in Croatia - that sort of thing.

Deeper and deeper she went; at one point it seem like she had got a little carried away and was scraping out bit of my skull just for fun.

My half an hour was up, but she was enjoying herself so much she kept going; presumably my mouth is just the sort of mouth she dreams about with lots of crap to get out. She must do; I've got to go again next month.

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Labels: General me

About three years ago I started going regularly to the gym. This was in response to a realisation that I was on a weight-gain trajectory that would make me very fat in middle age. Alongside this, I realised that I should stop eating shite like fast food and sweets.

I recently resolved to jump back on the dentistry bandwagon having fallen off it some years ago. I went on Wednesday and it turns out I've got away with it, they need a bloody good clean, but against all odds I have a healthy gob.

Once I've been scraped to death by the hygienist, I'll be onto my eyesight. I have pretty good eyesight, but when I'm tired and it's dark, I know that I'm not focussing as well as I used to.

I should also go to the doctor to see if he can do anything about the stress related ulcers and psoriasis I've been getting.

There was a time when I could eat shit, do no exercise, work and play all night without any adverse effect. Its crept up on me, but its dawned on me that I'm spending more and more time doing things just to hold myself together. I was 35 on Thursday and Mother Nature has decided that I'm more valuable as soil nutrient. She's basically trying kill me.

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Sara works for Waitrose. She was in Beaconsfield interviewing when the store was evacuated due to a fire alarm. Upon evacuation she bumped into a friend of hers who usually works in a one of their shops in Surrey. It's a small world.

He was at the Beaconsfield store looking at their displays of yogurt.

And before you ask, no, I have no idea whether his role extends to Muller Rice or not.

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Labels: General me

On Friday we got back from Jersey; a week in which we walked around beautiful coastal bays, cycled through leafy, flat bike tracks, ate fresh fish in a sea front restaurant, took a RIB out to the Écréhous, went seal spotting and got dragged around on a ringo. All in the company of great friends, it was, it's fair to say, perfect.

I've come back feeling cleansed; I'm going to sort out buying a bike and I'm going to sort out those fiddly jobs that are hanging around. I may even buy myself some new underpants.

Today, with a spring in my step, I went to Moss Bros to get measured up for an ushering suit. I was armed with all the details of the wedding; date, bride and grooms names, where they're getting married etc.

When you buy something from a John Lewis or Debenhams gift list, you punch in these details and the list comes up, you buy and you're on your way. At Moss Bros you need all the appropriate paperwork before they get the tape measures out. This can't be the only wedding in history where the groom and his ushers are geographically dispersed. They have no central database of weddings on their system. They rely entirely on shuffling paperwork from one shop to another. I therefore couldn't get measured up without the appropriate paperwork. Job Nos 1: In complete.

Then I went onto Orange - this time with the phone and the receipt - for the final battle. I walk in and like every Orange shop in the world there was one skinny spotty emo farting around behind the desk and one chavvy girl leaning on the counter apparently texting.

I explained, again, what happened. But they won't touch it. Not until I take out 'emergency insurance' at £60. And, if I do that with them in the shop, they will take up to 28 days to send it to their repairers. Or, I can do it via their customer service line and they'll send a courier within 24 hours. Nobody had previously mentioned any insurance requirements which just sounds like some kind of protection racket.

So I have a phone which I didn't break and to fix this shonky phone I must pay £60. This is probably illegal as I'm sure I have statutory rights, but I no longer have the energy to fight it or hear another of their staff saying that it's not their fault. I fear I'm about to give up, defeated. Which is probably what they want me to do. Job Nos 2: incomplete.

Welcome home.

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Labels: General me, Technology