A Visit to the Dentist

Isn't it wonderful when you can go to the dentist, read this month's issue of Red Magazine in the waiting room, be taken on time and only pay £10.20 for the privilege of having your mouth poked and prodded by a small billhook and have the sort of descaling that you see done on horses.

It was also a miracle that the dentist didn't manage to find some evidence of last night's supper hiding unchallenged by my toothbrush or the flossing tape.

I was in and out in 10 minutes, skipping back home for some breakfast with a clean bill of dental health and six months' grace from the tooth torturer.

With his Lordship away in the hills with his pals, I cycled down to Joppa for lunch and a blether with a cycling friend of very new hip fame.
Eager to show off her walking skills, we promenaded the length of Portobello Prom and back and while she arrived home walking like the trouper she is, I was the one limping. And just when I thought daughter#2's magic patches were doing the trick.

It was another glorious day although a little mistier and breezy than of late.
The whole world and his wife were out taking the sea air: sometimes you wonder who is actually working these days. Maybe Wednesday is still a half day for some.

Anyway a climb back up from Joppa to find his Lordship home and awaiting some development on the food front. Better get this online fast.

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