D is for Dread

June 3rd seemed a long way off when I blithely made the appointment in mid-April but, like all dreaded occasions, it duly came around and I found myself yet again in the dental surgeon's chair (not my regular dentist, we are talking hard core here) with a mouth full of injections (I lost count, but more than 8, less than 12) and an hour and a half later I had a mouth full of stitches, a splitting headache and a 'trout pout'. There is something particularly invasive about any surgery that involves the face. Something to do with identity I suppose, and yes, it was worse than I had imagined, which is just as well as I would have dreaded it more!

But.  It is done and now all I have to do is heal, rest, enjoy catching up with your blogs and recover. Just as well perhaps that the house hasn't yet sold as I need my cosy nest right now, undisturbed for a while until life returns to normal and I can face the world again.