Friday, 1st April, 2005

I am a Great Big Wuss

Now, before I begin, I must ask you to promise that you won't think any less of me for this — I know I'm well-reknowned for being all brave and everything so I'd put this down to a momentary lapse of character. Honestly.

My little story the other day, about the horrors lurking beneath my wisdom tooth, prompted me to check when my next dentist appointment was. Turns out it was today.

"Friday 1st April, 11.30am" it said on my calendar. So I dragged myself by the scruff of the neck out of bed (at 10am if you must know ... what?! ... I was a bit groggy ) pulled on some jeans and left the house nice and early.

Or, at least I thought nice and early. I hadn't counted on every numpty in Lancashire heading up the A6 this morning.

I'm sure though, that you don't want to hear about my journey, despite the wonderful heroics of overtaking 5 cars and a lorry which I can only put down to perfect timing coming up to a dual-carriageway...

I made it to the dentist with seconds to spare.

"You're a bit early. You're not supposed to be here until half past twelve".

doh

Whatever. That sounded like a perfect excuse to go back down the road and pay a little visit to Beetham Nurseries, to maybe pick up some plants. I want a big tree that I can put at the end of my yard to obscure the view of the back of my house from the swings.

But, of course, there was nowhere to park, so, disgruntled, I headed back into Milnthorpe, and suddenly remembered that there's a place I've been meaning to visit there for ages

"Wine Time, Wine Warehouse"

Oh boy.

12 bottles of Tempranillo later (£40 — bargain!) and I was back to the dentist.

The thing is you see, that I've had a hole in one of my wisdom teeth for ages. Quite a big hole as a matter of fact. The sort of hole that you can get the end of your tongue in and feel around a bit. The sort of hole that a dentist would say "That needs to come out" to, and indeed, that's exactly why I was there today.

Poor Kath — she had to endure several whinging phonecalls of a "I don't want to go" nature earlier on in the day.

So, I sat myself down, made the obligatory small-talk with the dentist, popped on the silly glasses and bib, then chanced my luck...

"I don't suppose you could just fill that hole rather than taking the tooth out?"

In my defence, I'm getting a bit low on teeth, and the thought of losing another, well, I'm going to end up looking like Shane McGowan if I'm not too careful. And yes, the thought of pliers wrenching the root from the roof of my mouth wasn't exactly a pleasant one, but really, I just don't want to lose any more teeth thankyouverymuch.

Sure enough, I'm now sat here with a chunk of metal occupying the space where a ragged tooth used to be, but I'm happy > Maybe it won't last and I'll have to have it out after all, but I'd rather give it a try first

So yeah, I'm a wuss, but a justified one.

...

No news from the vet yet — Murphy is going to be OK, but we're still not sure what's up with George. I was convinced about it being toothache, but he was eaeting dried food yesterday. And he doesn't seem to have any problem eating the ham that I was going to make sandwiches for myself with either.

Swear to God — I think he's just being a fussy attention-seeking little sod at the moment It's working for him though — yesterday, whilst demonstrating the delights of Lancaster's very own old coffee importers to Kath's friend who was visiting, I noticed that they were selling old coffee sacks for 50p each. So I got two.

George now has a Papua New Guinean rug on which to watch the dancing orange pixies

LOL — I'm not sure how much of a compliment that is!

Kitty, yeah — it's on the One Way System. Just round a bit from Waterstones beside (I think) the pet shop. If you pick a day when he's roasting the beans, you can't miss it — just follow your nose

Beetham looks quite cool to be honest. I've never been to the town itself, but from the A6 it looks quite inviting. If only I wasn't either (a) laden with plants, or (b) in post-tooth-manipulation agony every time I went past, I might pay a visit. I think they have a Paper Museum. Or is it a Pencil Museum? Or is that Keswick?

Yep, Keswick.

Now then...

This weekend promises to be interesting. I'm due over in Leeds tomorrow to go to a party for Kath's friend who's back over from New Zealand. (Long standing readers will remember that this time last year, I was in a state of perpetual mourning because Kath had deserted me for four weeks to go visit said friend. Who is actually very lovely BTW)

But yeah, a party. At which will be a lot of Kath's friends from school etc. Now, it would appear that herself has let it slip that her boyfriend is one who indulges in the act (art?) of wearing women's clothes, and it would also appear that one of Kath's friends has decided it will be a lot of fun to question said boyfriend about his habits.

Not explaining that well am I?

Basically, I think what's happening here is that an old school-friend of Kath's has found a rather hilarious way to wind her up — by asking probing questions to her transvestite boyfriend.

Permit me a bit of arrogance here for a second, but oh boy, did he pick the wrong trannie to take the piss out of or what?!

mwah ha har

It is possible, that I'm building this into something that it's not. And maybe I'll have egg all over my face this time on Sunday. But I think not, ya know?

...

Fortunately, Kathie won't have access to the Internet (I think) until after the weekend, giving me enough time to delete this if it all goes tits up. If chunks of my diary start disappearing, then you can assume I've been humiliated.

Oh, And Also...

Cutting and pasting dictionary definitions is so last year

Susan, to be honest, there's two arguments I can hold my own in (1) What's wrong with New Media? and (2) "You're a Transvestite, you must be weird".

Especially (2) when it comes from boys under the age of thirty