Wednesday was Dentist Countdown Day.

As a recap: severe pain before Christmas meant root canal surgery. This was completed without too many tears.

Today was all about grinding down what remains of my tooth ahead of a measuring, and then a fitting for a cap.

FIVE appointments in total, all paid for up front.

My penny pinching ways meant that I wouldn’t back out, knowing that I had already forked out.

And so two down, three to go.

But first some 7am work to take my mind off what was to come.

It’s a mixed bag these early shifts. Sometimes you have a little more space to make decisions. Other mornings are bloody manic.

I was thankful of the manic Wednesday to take my mind off the dentist.

The major Brixton Buzz story was finally pieced together mid-morning. I have been working on the detail in this for the past couple of months.

It’s not yet been published.

I’ve passed it on to the Brixton Buzz Fact Checking team first.

*we don’t have a Fact Checking team, but we do know a very friendly fella who is far better at localgov finances than me*

I’m optimistic of pressing Publish on Thursday morning.

Some more work, some midday PMQ’s.

It’s CRAP, innit?

I then made inroads into editing and publishing the SE21 school content from Monday. It’s a struggle tbh, keeping up with FIFTEEN classes.

But fun, all the same.

And then the dentist.


I was given the anaesthetic and told to lie back and think of England.

Take it easy on me, etc.

I could tell that something was up within the first minute. The dentist and her assistant both had an “Ohhhhh” moment as they shone the light in my mouth.

What’s up, Doc? etc…

It turns out that my tooth was cracked. There’s little point in trying to smooth things over when it resembles the backside of a builder.

The frantic pace of the dentist suggested that she was on a mission. That mission soon became one to use the pliers to pull my tooth out before the anaesthetic wore off.


I consented to the extraction, and then lied back and thought of a lot more than bloody England.

“You’re sweating”

…observed the dentist.

Yep. It’s what I do.

Plenty of prodding and pushing took place. Yet still the looks of uncertainty could be read on the faces behind the masks.

This isn’t going very well, is it.

In the end the tooth was removed, but not the root.

This might be something of an issue…

I left the surgery with very little dignity.

The only positive is that I found that I am rather good at haggling whilst crying my eyes out.

This is the story of my ‘career.’

Having paid for five appointments up front, I reasoned that I am due for a refund on two of these that haven’t take place.

SWEATING out the small stuff, Jase.

Quite literally.

To be decided, apparently.

I went home to sulk.

And to to work.

I tried to explain to Daisy and Dotty my dilemma.

They asked for more food.

The temptation to shut up shop and sulk further was resisted. All my school work was signed off, as well as the killer Buzz story for the morning.

I tired to grin and bear it whilst watching the Chelsea Vs Arsenal match.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *