Work was nervously abandoned today for the sake of my youngest sons tooth, or lack of a bit of it! We sauntered dazed and still half asleep onto the 7:40am ferry in the hope that an emergency dental appointment could be made at 8:30.
No such luck. Tom’s pain had subsided and the receptionist said no, not emergency enough!
Still, Ruben needed a haircut, an opticians appointment, and we all needed more food. All these things were somehow accomplished. I’d thought, for one glorious moment, that we may indeed be worthy of emergency dental care when Tom’s face started to redden in the opticians and he squealed “Ow, sore again mum” to which I responded gleefully, GREAT! Lets get to the dentist quick while it still hurts, but it soon calmed and Tom insisted that he’d rather have lunch. I think maybe I should have ignored lunch, taken him anyway and poked him hard at reception. What is the NHS coming to when mothers are driven to such desperate measures?
Back to the studio in the afternoon where Hyacinth MacColl was cut, sewn and stuffed for customer Smith.