Thoughts from the Dentist's Chair

Call me weird but I always have fun at my dental appointments. The dentist and his assistant are friendly and chatty - plus I giggle at the ridiculous sounds that reach my ears when they use the sucky-hose-thingy to clear the saliva (yuk!) when the drilling and filling is under way. 

Today, while the dentist was applying anaesthetic in advance of a filling, a George Ezra song was playing and we began chatting about the music we grew up with - his mum force-fed him Harry Belafonte (think calypso: Island in the Sun, Banana Boat Song, etc.). 

I'd just been prepared with numbing gum-jabs when the lights went off! Not too much of a problem for me as the dental equipment still worked and the dentist always wears directional lights on his head. Other parts of the surgery were affected, though, as a couple of machines were on the dead circuit. 

There wasn't much for me to do for the next half-an-hour or so, so I closed my eyes and relaxed - well, it was difficult to talk with a mouth hanging open and full of various pieces of equipment. Random thoughts ran through my head, such as why my tongue is so ill-disciplined. Unless I concentrated 100% in an attempt to keep it out of the way, the tip of my tongue kept wandering off so see what the dentist was up to. And the flavours of dental aids could be better - the metal mould, for instance, and one of the washes they sprayed in my mouth was not to my taste. 

Soon it was over and we chatted for a couple of minutes about how he bought a quirky object from an odds-and-ends shop when he left a conference on hypnotism (hmm... ?) then came the really painful process of paying for the treatment!! 

Coincidentally, the day before the dentist, I had a GP appointment - the first for about ten years. The person I saw was new to the practice (as was I) and she was very interesting. Her mother was from Sri Lanka but moved the family to Norway where she and her siblings grew up and where her children were born. Her English was impeccable and she also speaks three Scandinavian languages plus Tamil. It's so embarrassing that many Brits don't even have a second language. 

White Collar (TV series)

Following rumours, earlier this year, of a return or reboot, I've started watching White Collar, a TV series from more than ten years ago, which is currently being shown on the Disney+ channel.

I'm currently at the point where Neal Caffrey, master forger and con artist, is at a crossroads for his future. He likes his new life as a reformed con on a four-year probation seconded to the FBI in New York; he has friendships with his old buddy Mozz, his landlady June, his love interest Sara and the FBI team, including his 'boss' Peter Burke and Peter's wife Elizabeth. 

Although he is trying to be a good guy, his past keeps catching up with him. In this part of the series, Neal is covering for Mozz, who has taken possession of a billion dollars of  artefacts that were stolen from the Russians by Nazis during WWII. Mozz is planning to retire to an island, using the treasure as his pension, and wants Neal to join him. Neal has just said no so Mozz and the artefacts have disappeared. 

Unfortunately, a clever and greedy killer, Matthew Keller, will stop at nothing to steal this 'treasure'. However, Neal, Mozz and Peter are also clever so the battle is on. They 'goodies' win, of course, which leads to something good...

There may be a follow up post when I finish watching the series.

NOTE: the island was supposedly Cape Verde but was actually filmed in Costa Rica. 

Hip, Hip, Hooray! It's An Art Day

Following the previous, gloomy post, I though readers deserved some more upbeat news so here it is. Since moving towns a couple of years ago, I've been looking for something sociable to do. I considered joining the local Am-Dram society, as it's only a ten minute walk from home, but I have nothing to offer (I can't act, sing, dance or anything) and they have ample contributors of all ages. I also considered the 'horticultural group' because I like to potter around the garden in the warmer months (I'm still considering it). 

First, though, I volunteered to help with a local group in the village because they seemed desperate but meeting once a year for an AGM doesn't tick the social box.

Then, a couple of weeks ago, someone on the local Facebook group asked if there was any interest in starting a fortnightly art group. It's nothing formal, just people getting together, making time to paint, with breaks for coffee and some chatting. I put my name down and our first 'taster' session is next week. 

Update: I drove to the venue, couldn't find anywhere to park and come home again, mission aborted.

Dinosaur Days & The NHS

Without wishing to promote negativity and hopelessness in a bleak, dystopian future (good start), this post refers to life in the 21st century.

Mid-20th century people are getting old. Most worked hard to enjoy their retirement, not realising that that particular dream was akin to the promise of heaven (i.e. it probably doesn't exist). So, is today's world better than yesterday?

crocodinosaurs

The dinosaurs don't think so. Theirs was a simpler world. They learned to cope with the occasional dangers and continued to wander the beautiful green earth, ignorant of disasters of a global scale, such as the ice age, a world-wide epidemic or the rise of advanced technology. Were there dinosaurs that foresaw the changes? For example, crocodiles seemed to survive the freeze and, more recently, prophets like Isaac Asimov tried to warn us about the future.

falling... 

Is anyone happy right now? Maybe half of us but, according to mind.org.uk, 25% of the UK population is currently experiencing mental health issues. It's not just young people, although they are less likely to have the appropriate experience to fool themselves that things will return to 'normal'. They won't - because 'normal' changes. Today's dinosaurs have the luxury of knowing that their short future is most likely a descent into dementia, care home and death. Wow, that's heavy.

But, a hundred years ago, our however-many-great-grandparents were weary from a harsh war that ended only five years earlier and the industrial evolution continued. War takes a financial toll and, far from being a Utopia, there were hardships, unlike any experienced by Brits today. Power for warmth and light relied heavily on fossil fuels as (mainly Welsh or northern) men toiled in mines, suffering all kinds of illness - and there was no national health system at that time.

Ironically, this post was intended to include a rant about trying to see a GP, so, here goes.

Why is it so hard to book a GP appointment?

Not having had to see a GP for many years, I was shocked at how difficult it is! According to the surgery's website, the 'best' way to get an appointment is to use the e-consult form. I tried this four times with the same result - closed for the day, try again tomorrow. Returning to the website for guidance... it suggests that, alternatively, I could pop in to reception to book an appointment. I did this and was told that I should try e-consult again, at 8am sharp. Thanks, but not very helpful. 

So I did this, too. I went online at 8am and worked through the form. The first few pages were geared to encouraging me to call 111 or some alternative NHS service (which I chose to ignore) and continued with the form (which took 35 minutes) to be told, at the end, that I should find another way to contact the surgery. No! I went back a few pages and changed some of my responses until the form was completed and I received confirmation that I should receive a response within the next couple of days. This had taken an hour.

I had a missed call three hours later, asking me to call the surgery. I did this. the first message said that they were busy and I should fill out an e-consult form. Aaaaaaaarghhhh! At the end of the message, I was given the option of being put through to a receptionist. I duly pressed the required button and the next message said that they were busy and I could try again later (no way) or request a call-back, which I did. To be fair, they called an hour later and an appointment was made for three weeks' time. It was the first available appointment, not with the GP that I wanted to see, but with his apprentice, which I accepted anyway. Better than nothing, I guess.

The post should also cover the way our lives have been significantly altered by the covid epidemic but, quite honestly, I've worn myself out with this one. Maybe another time.