Of course I didn’t swallow a pram! It just feels like it. Don’t you hate it when a tooth cracks, usually the result of an old filling breaking down. In this case it seems to happen to the same tooth every four or five months; one of those back ones that you need for chewing. Then it leaves a sharp jagged edge that cuts ingot your tongue and cheek every time you talk or swallow, making me sound like a demented chipmunk! (Or in NZ’s case –a possum).
The dentist has been gently telling me that I need a crown, but we all know that involves copious amount of cash, so I keep going for the cheap fix. Silly me---I could have paid for it twice over, having gone for the option that inly last a short time, so now that we have the British Royal Family traipsing around NZ at the moment, I thought in honour of their visit I would get my own crown and to hell with the money---Aunty Visa will have to pay for it.
I can think of much better ways to spend my afternoons; you know the feeling: your mouth filled to capacity with dental implements and the dentist chatting away, expecting an answer, which can only come in the form of a grunt or hand movements. I well remember quite wide-ranging chats in the past!
OK, at least I shall have the rough edges rubbed, filed or whatever, off today! Can’t wait to have a smooth-talking mouth again.