This morning I went to the garage to get a headlight replaced as I’d been unable to get the bulb out yesterday. That seemed to be the theme of the day, as my dentist had proved similarly inept when it came to taking things out. It took five minutes to replace the bulb. Unfortunately he doesn’t do teeth. He did, however, tell me a story about a tooth extraction he had. The slightly built lady dentist couldn’t get enough traction to remove it, so she went for help. This arrived in the somewhat square shape of another female dentist. She had an eastern European accent and the build of a hammer thrower (not that I’m pandering to racial stereotypes, you understand…).
She took a firm grip on the tooth, squeezed and destroyed the tooth. He said it sounded like a car crash.
Then they cut it out.
I left the garage feeling I’d had a lucky escape.
Then I came home, blogged and ate a sausage sandwich. I had sausage rather than bacon because they are softer to chew with a booby-trapped tooth.
After that I ran Julia to the doctor, dropped off some Christmas cards and then went down to see my Dad. He’s suffering from a chest infection, which, in turn, makes him more vague. I then lost nine games of dominoes – three to my sister and six to a man with dementia and a chest infection.
My life has hit rock bottom…
Your dad sounds like quite the man!
It would take an entire post to answer that properly. 🙂
Oh dear! If you’ve got a sore mouth, I can see how dominoes might be a challenge. At least you had a lucky escape, as you put it!
🙂 He usually beats me when I don’t have a sore mouth.
😊
I had a visit to an Austrian dentist when on holiday and he had to take a tooth out. It caused him some difficulty and I swear that he put his foot on my chest during the procedure. At the end he declared cheerfully, “Well that was a good bloody business.”
I had a dentist like that once (the foot on chest type). He retired soon after, I’m glad to say.
Correct. 🙂
Merry Christmas!
Thank you. Have a good Christmas yourself.
For various reason, I’m not getting into dental debates, but I’ve been fascinated by the topic of changing car headlamp bulbs ever since I learnt that this, a task I’d been performing easily and relatively painlessly whenever necessary, ever since I first had a car, was no longer something I was capable of. It was a defining moment in my life, having to consult the car’s handbook when I couldn’t fathom out how to even access the light fitting, let alone have a chance to grab, twist and pull. The handbook said, “Consult a qualified technician.” Stunned, I dropped in on a dealer as I was passing and asked, hesitantly, if I really needed an expert to change a lightbulb. “Oh yes, sir; you can’t possibly do it yourself. We won’t charge you for doing it, though.” They were very good; I had a cup of coffee and, 10 minutes later, was on my way. The bulb cost £14.00.
Bulbs are much more complicated than they used to be. I spoke to a friend yesterday and he tells me he has to go to the garage as they have to remove his bumper to put the bulbs in. It seems we had a lucky escape with not having to have our cars dismantled.
The sausage sandwich was a positive!
Most definitely!
It doesn’t get much worse than that
Nowhere to go but up, my friend.
That is true!