I had a tooth out yesterday. I guess there's (at least) two ways of looking at this:-
After far too long enduring pain, discomfort and only being able to eat on the left side of my mouth I finally got something done about it; and it's my fault for not going to the dentist for over 20 years (!) and if I'd looked after my teeth in the first place they wouldn't be in the state they're in.
A legalised psychopath and her mate gave me endless self-righteous speeches about 'dental hygiene' or, in my case, the lack of it and then charged me a small fortune for ripping something out of my face. I've kept it- it's about the size of my little finger. It would traumatise the world's hardest tooth fairy. I feel sick.
When I knew this was all going to have to happen I remarked to David (a guitar pupil of mine) that in a way I've always felt a bit sorry for dentists- after all people only go to them when they have to, and no one really likes them do they?
He looked at me rather sternly and said 'next time you feel sorry for them, have a look at the car they drive'.
So, I'm in the shop today and the right side of my face (and most of my head to be honest) feels like it's done 10 rounds with an in-his-prime Mike Tyson. And the one day that I wouldn't mind us having no customers they've been coming out of the proverbial woodwork. And I've just seen the itinery for our Scottish gigs this coming weekend. And there was an enormous BMW parked outside the dentist's. And MY MOUTH HURTS.
I think I may take a holiday.