Those of you who know Linda, will remember the mouthful of disturbed teeth that she had. The dentist told her that her mouth is so small there just wasn't room for a normal amount of teeth. I can best describe the inside of her mouth as 'like an explosion in a cemetary'. Every tooth seemed to be fighting for space or leaning at a drunken angle.
A generous gift a few years ago enabled Linda to go through several years of discomfort and dentistry until finally her teeth are all back in place and all is well. She has been so happy with her smile that, now, at last, looks like a proper smile, and not like a shark waiting to pounce.
All that perseverence and all that discomfort...then she found out that the brace in her mouth would be there for life. The dentist never knew; Linda never knew; nobody knew; that her teeth would not be strong enough to hold a bridge to keep them all in place.
Sadly she was told that the only way to make it work now was to have a tooth implanted into the jaw bone and this would hold the bridge in place... then she was also told the fee to have it done.
Well that should put the dentist's children through Uni I must say. No wonder you never see a poor dentist.
I don't know what will be the most painful; the extraction of tooth followed by the implant...or the extraction from my wallet followed by the payment.
Finally we have scraped the cash together and finally she is going in to get the proceedure done.
It must be worse than I thought because they have said she might not be able to work for several days. She certainly wont be eating much or drinking a glass of wine really soon. I had no idea it was such a complicated thing.
So here we are; Linda is lying in a dentist surgery somewhere in Truro, thankfully unconscious; I am sitting in the library, wishing I was unconscious.
Its been a long road to finally get her teeth sorted, and this is now the final mile. Lets hope it works!!
My fault entirely. I get so used to being exposed in all weathers I forgot the bits that are invariably covered.
I normally wear boots and socks to work so my tan line stops about two inches above my ankle bone. When I take my boots and socks off it looks like I am wearing white socks. To counteract that, I have taken to wearing my sandals at every opportunity. This has resulted in my feet and ankles tanning enough to look OK. This week like an idiot, when we got to the beach...I took the sandals off. You can guess the result. The strap marks across my feet went from bright pink to burnt raw. Its taken a week to sort myself out.
Linda thought it was hilarious and offered to shave my head for me. She then said I could have the nice brown centre bit...like a monks tonsure...surrounded by a big white circle slowly changing from bright pink to firey red. Not the most sympathetic person my wife.
My two photos don't really do justice to the beach at Carne. If you can imagine two beaches; one called Carne and the other Pendower. They lay in a large bay and are seperated from each other by a mixed rock and sand area. That is the area we go and sit at. We don't mind walking along the beach full of people, but we prefer to find our own quiet place to sit and enjoy.
Both sandy area's can fill up quite quickly with people but the area we like stays fairly quiet, Its sort of seperate, but right in the middle of things, if you know what I mean. This place we try to get each time we come down, is bordered by low rocks with their pools and hidden places. It also has the most wonderful little carpets of sand that just cry out for people to sit there.
We can put the picnic basket in the shade; stand a bottle of wine in an adjacent pool; spread blanket and chairs; and make it home from home. Its great.
Finally; I have entered a literary competition. Fingers crossed, but I'm really pleased with the story I sent.