Everything is anathema

As the Americans will know, here in the UK we all have wooden teeth. However, I am the sole exception. I have always been a little obsessed with my teeth. When I was a teenager I couldn't wait to get braces. I floss religiously. I am toothpaste connoisseur (I recommend Marvis Jasmin Mint). My sonic toothbrush is a prized possession. I think it's my OCD tendencies. So it was with great surprise, shock and no short supply of horror when over the weekend as I was merrily watching Chelsea dispatch West Ham with ease and enjoying a particularly tasty sandwich that the corner of one of my back teeth broke off. What the fuck.

My wife and I live in a nice, secluded location in the middle of nowhere in the midlands. We live next to a lake and a golf course and not much else. Good for most days, not good for when you need dental work. The nearest dentist is good for a scale and polish, but I felt I wanted the best work possible and as such decided to visit Harley Street. The Dr who did the work was actually available to speak to me on Skype beforehand, which is was novel, and I was seen straight away the next day. I'd never been to Harley Street before but it's lived up its reputation thus far, everything was resolved in a most acceptable manner.

Being in London gave me the chance to meet up with Nick, a former student of mine, and we dove into a pub just off Oxford Street to sink a few pints. The pub was what I would describe as typically English grotty affair, I was facing the door and it was amusing to see tourists walk in visibly thinking "what the hell is this", but then proceed anyway to sit down and order food (they're braver than me). I think perhaps they were expecting a lot of lace doilies and that Mary Poppins would be serving scones and cream. In any case, I'm sure you'll read this Nick, so I wish you all the best with your poker and your upcoming move. It was a pleasure to meet one of my most successful students.

On the way home I picked up a book from Foyles for my daughter called The Loon on the Moon, which brought to mind our very own TheLoon. I had wanted to get her a flying cow from Hamley's but as the back-flipping dog I bought her from there scares her to death, I thought better of it. But man, I really want that flying cow.