Dentist day

Up at seven and full of cheer to be at my desk in my tidy office. Calliope slotting into her shelf below the desktop for a sleep.

Did some writing on and off all day, both prose and poetry. Lorraine off to her personal trainer, and then to Ashford to see Pat and Maureen and take Pat to the memory clinic. I spoke to Mum, and then went to my first dental appointment with a new dentist in 30 years. Felt slightly apprehensive in the waiting room that Lucinda wasn't waiting for me on the other side of the door.

My new dentist, however, is a lovely Irish woman called Cóilín -- who, when I said my age, told me I could have been in my 40s, which naturally went down a treat. She was very thorough and pleasant, and visiting her was far better than repeating the big schlep off to Strand on the Green now that I rarely have cause to visit west London. She said my teeth were fine, but I had a little inflammation in my gums. We had been talking before she started digging around, and she said that looking at my mouth, she would have asked me if I experienced any stressful events lately. Anyway I am going back for a two deep cleans, which she thinks will sort it. Otherwise there are antibiotics, but she wants to avoid those if possible, and so do I.

After this dental interlude, a quick stroll along the seafront and into Morrisons,  and to vet to collect Calliope's Thyronorm. I am liking how my vet, optician and dentist are all within five-minutes.  

Home, and more tidying and sorting of books in my study, climbing into the loft, and doing a bit of writing. Dreary rain all afternoon matching my low energy. Read more of The Loney, by Andrew Michael Hurley, which I am enjoying. Well written, enjoyably gloomy, with some horror tropes. Perfect.

Lorraine home out of the rain, watched the cathartic Sort Your Life Out, and an early night.