The God of Queues

It’s December 23rd 2008 and I’m back from a harrowing shop. I realise now I never knew before today what a harrowing shop was. Now I am older, wiser and beaten to a pulp. I’ve never seen so much harrow in one shop.

It was like pushing a milk-float through molasses in a high-street Patricks Day riot. Don’t stop or you’ll turn around to find the trolley bashed & overturned 3 aisles down under a mountain of knock-down, knocked-down tins of beans. Bend to pick up a sliced pan and chances are you have just avoided being slapped in the face by a flying duck as litle Johnny relieves the boredom of shopping by helping his mother in creative ways. Duck! If you insist on standing still for more than 10 seconds to source a decent sausage, take care to curl your toes and tighten your buttocks. It’s Christmas out there and the hordes (which, admittedly, I added to) mean to stock up for it. If that means cutting you off or cutting you up so be it. You’ll have deserved your just desserts if you get in the way of the business of festive good-kill.

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The Whole Tooth

With head bowed in heartfelt sorrow I can at last come clean about something:

Before today I hadn’t been to a dentist for over 10 years!

I know this to be true because we moved into our current home eight years ago.  It was around two years before then that I visited the dentist. After the move, my ‘regular’ dentist was now around fifteen miles from my house -through heavy traffic most of the time. My teeth felt fine.

So I put off the visit. I know I could’ve gone elsewhere, but …y’know…

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