Cruel Irony

So there I was, covering for a teacher who was at the dentist's, and some lower being (definitely not a higher one) decided to take the word literally, and at Break one of my teeth BROKE. Quick phone call to the Dentist - "He's on holiday till next week. Phone the emergency service." Which turns out to begin at 6pm. But I get a number from there to phone my local health authority, where a helpful young man gave me a list of dentists who are still accepting National Health Service (NHS) patients. One was quite close to where I am working, so I gave them a call, expecting an appointment three weeks come Thursday. NO! Today at 3.45. (Most of these conversations took place walking to the classroom, letting the kids into the classroom, or inside the classroom, on a mobile phone which kids are banned from using.) They are quite a naughty class, but had been great before Break, so I was optimistic that they would be fine, and they did not let me down.

So here I am with a lip that feels as thick as Vincent's wrist, £350 poorer. The NHS porcelain crown is £180, but there is a selection of better ones, and as the tooth is the first and most visible molar (not to mention the most used) I thought I'd better go for the top end.

Now all I have to do is find the courage to eat with the temporary crown and try not to destroy it in the week before the new one is ready.