As I type this, here in New Zealand, it is 9.30 a.m. on Monday 31 March. I have to see the dentist today at High Noon ("do not forsake me, oh my darling....." ).
Oh boy, I would give anything to be forsaken by the dentist. I've brushed my teeth faithfully all my life, I believe in fluoride in our drinking water, I have semi-regular dentist visits, I try not to eat too many nuts and grains - a dentist told me once that so-called health foods were the main causes of broken and cracked teeth.
But for the last fourteen days, after the dentist put in that temporary crown, I have eaten nothing but mush, mainly in the form of mashed potato, creamed corn, and flaked tarakihi fish. I have drunk soup and water out of a straw. My mouth has been very sore.
So, what do I have to look forward to after my appointment today? Will the famous crown that I'll be forced to wear solve all problems? It didn't for poor old King Charles I.
Stand by ... same bat blog, same batty writer ....
2.30 pm, 31 March: Oh dear.... I've just come back from dentist. I don't know whether I built up this torture chamber in my mind and made-it-so or whether today was truly as horrific as I thought it would be.
I (only) got three injections this time. And I cried. How embarrassing. Then I wriggled, then I sort of kicked out with my heels on the chair. Then I hyperventilated......
I hope there was no video. Otherwise, the staff at the dental surgery will no doubt elect me as the champion coward of the year when they show all 2014's hilarious videos at their Christmas function!