Dentists, Writers and Scots

My day started at the dentist. I have an irrational fear of dentists, despite mine being one of the loveliest I've known. (I need to go back for a teeny tiny filling on Thursday but that's not so bad.)

After finishing at the dentist, I drove up from the Bay to the city centre to have a Festive lunch with some Cardiff-based writers. We've been meeting up for coffee throughout the year and thought it would be good to have a bit more time for a chat. It was a great idea and the food was as excellent as the company. (I had bruschetta (my current food fixation) to start, followed by pizza with torn buffalo mozzarella, smoked prosciutto, rocket and Calabrian oregano, just like the Italians make it, and then almond, plum and pistachio tart to finish. Squisito!)

After lunch, I stopped off at Pen & Paper in the Royal Arcade to pick up a book that had come in for a friend, and then felt myself inexplicably drawn towards the mecca that is Waterstone's.

Just before heading in, I sent a text to a Scottish friend who was in Cardiff for a couple of nights, on the off chance she and her husband were free to meet up. Mid-browse, a message pinged back and we met in the Duke of Wellington for a catch up over a couple of drinks.

I stopped off on the way home to deliver the book to my friend and stayed a while for a chat.

Not bad for a day with a dentist in it!