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A few weeks ago one of my teeth cracked.  It was one which I’d previously had a root canal treatment on (ouch) and it had then weakened the tooth enough that one bite of a yummy, gooey chocolate bar took out a chunk. So yesterday (yes, Friday 13th – good job I am not the superstitious type) I visited the dentist to be measured for a crown.

Now I don’t mind the dentist that much as I have found one I can trust, at one time I feared the hairdressers more (a really bad haircut will do that to a girl). It is a fifty minute drive to get there, so with Jay at the wheel, aka Captain Slow, I gave us just over an hour to make the journey. What with slowing for assorted game birds attempting suicide by Renault, stopping to clean up snotty noses in the back seat, and lorries which drove slower than my husband (I know, hard to believe) I arrived at the dentist at 10.29 for a 10.30 appointment.

None of the drilling carried out on my tooth hurt, it’s the really loud buzzy drill I don’t enjoy though. It tends to make me dizzy, vibrating through my head, but closing my eyes helped with that.

The part I didn’t like was the goo they put in my mouth to make the mould from.  It was on a sort of plate thing I then had to bite down on to make an impression.  Have you ever tried to clench your teeth for five minutes without a break, while you have a mouth full of squishy gum that then starts to harden? About three minutes in and my jaw was killing me, but when it was finally done the mould was removed from my mouth. It was grey and purple and looked like putty, but stretched like a rubber band. (I know this from having to peel excess stuff off my face!)

I now have a gap where the crown will go which makes me very self-conscious and I have to wait two weeks for the crown to be made before I have it fitted.

While I am waiting I think I will practice my royal wave and look at pictures of palaces. Hopefully that will help time go faster.