Warning: squeamist or dentistry-phobic readers may prefer to avoid reading this post.

The topic of dentistry is not to everyone’s taste and if you prefer to skip this post, I will not think any the worse of you. I was in two minds whether to write about the incident at all but decided to do so at least as a future reminder to myself if nothing more.

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I have back-dated this post to July 28th, when the events described took place, though I am writing it on the following day.

You may recall (see Upset at the dentist’s) that my dentist’s surgery had made a mistake over appointment dates, causing me some annoyance. The second appointment on July 20th did take place. Having cleared the work surface, so to speak, the dentist decided that the tooth was too decayed to be saved and needed to be extracted. An appointment was fixed for today, July 28th.

This caused me some concern because my teeth have long roots and dentists in the past have fought shy of exractions, forecasting that this would need to be done by an oral surgeon in a dental hospital. So, despite their assurances on this occasion, I remained dubious about the whole thing.

E-day came and I nervously went for my appointment. Because of Covid-19, you have to go through a whole routine at the dentist’s of putting your possessions – coat, hat, bag – in a box, washing your hands and donning disposable gloves. Needless to say, you have to wear a face mask right up to the moment when the dentistry begins and putting it on again straightaway afterwards..

The dentist was reassuring but I was nervous, expecting the worst.

It turned out that I was right, of course. The dentist managed only to remove the upper part, what you might call the “visible tooth”, leaving the roots still firmly ensconced. He will refer me to a dental hospital to complete the job.

There was of course a certain amount of bleeding. For reasons I needn’t go into to, I have problems relating to bleeding and this worried me. The dentist gave me some gauze pads to take home with me. The idea is to bite hard on one if bleeding starts and this is supposed to help it stop. During the course of the afternoon and evening, the bleeding continued and biting the pads didn’t stop it. It wasn’t bleeding by a huge amount but it was continuous. In the end I decided that I had to go to A&E for them to do the necessary.

Tigger came with me and we took the bus to dear old UCLH (University of London College Hospital), which Tigger calls my “home from home” as I have been there so often. Tigger was not allowed in with me as they are applying a strict patients-only rule owing to the pandemic.

I had to wait for quite a while, of course, but I knew from experience that this would be the case and remained patient (in both senses!). I was eventually called by a pleasant and attentive nurse who listened to my story and consulted my medical record which they have on the computers. She proposed applying to the wound a pad soaked in some medication whose name I missed. I had to sit biting this to hold it in place for 30 minutes. Fortunately, I have ebooks on my phone so I entertained myself reading.

After 30 minutes, my friendly nurse returned, examined the wound and said that the blood had clotted nicely. I could go home but must be careful not to disturb the wound until it had settled. If the bleeding started again, I was to return to A&E forthwith.

I had sent Tigger a text, telling her what was going on and suggesting that she return home. Instead, bless her, she remained in the area to wait for me. Reunited at the bus stop, we went home together. I had some supper, eating carefully on one side of my mouth, while we listened to Alfie Moore on the radio.

The bleeding seems to have stopped and, all being well, that’s the end of the story until I receive a hospital appointment.

Once more, the NHS has shown its importance. I was treated with care and consideration throughout. We must not allow this treasured institution to be damaged or given sway to capitalists interests.

It is a rather dull day today, cloudy, windy and promising rain.

The first duty of the day was to phone the council’s repairs department to report a leak. The pipe leading into the toilet cistern had begun to drip from a joint, slowly but determinedly, and we had placed a jug underneath it to catch the water. I was expecting the usual “there are no appointments for this week..” so imagine my surprise when I was told “I can send someone this morning. Will you be in?” I would indeed be in.

An hour later not one but two young men appeared on the doorstep. They were not wearing masks and did not offer any ID but did speak the magic phrase “You have a leaking toilet?” and so I reckoned one out of three was good enough.

After a brief intermission – “We’re just going to fetch our tools and a ballcock in case we need one” – the job was done. (And apparently they did need a ballcock, as they indicated by waving the old one at me as they left.) I did wonder why plumbers would turn up for a job without their tools but it didn’t seem a matter worth pursuing.

I then tried calling my doctor’s surgery as I will need an appointment sometime soon. I knew that ringing on a Monday was a bad idea because on Monday people are panic calling about all the things that have gone wrong over the weekend, though I did wait until after 11, thinking things might have calmed down a bit by then. They hadn’t. I had first to listen to two long recorded messages relating to the Covid-19 crisis and was then allowed to listen to the awful music interrupted periodically by a voice telling me that the lines were still busy but someone will answer if I just hold on…

In the end, I gave up, thinking I would try again this afternoon but – you know what? – I can’t face the recorded messages and awful music again just yet.

Win one, lose one. That’s a kind of success, I suppose.

The weather was not conducive to a long ramble so we went out for a short one, just there and back, really, “there” being Myddelton’s deli for our daily coffee.

Chadwell Street

This view along Chadwell Street shows the dull snd cloudy conditions. Happily, it did not actually rain while we were out.

People had put out their recycling ready for tomorrow’s collection and, given the windy conditions, we were accompanied everywhere by the rattle of plastic containers blown out of the bins and rolled along the street by the stiff breeze.

Feeding the pigeons

I spotted this man in the park feeding the pigeons. Being fond of pigeons myself, I understand why people do this even though they are not supposed to. The incident reminded me of our pigeon-fancier neighbour whose death I recounted in Death of a pigeon-fancier and who inspired the short story Pigeons. In a world in which there is so much cruelty, a little kindness does not come amiss.

Although we did most of our travelling yesterday by train and car, we still felt a little tired today (perhaps a hangover from our long walk on on Thursday). Also, the weather forecast was promising rain and thunder storms. In view of all this, we decided that a “once round the church to Myddelton’s” would do for today. (Like in the good old days of lockdown!)

For some reason, despite already seeing it a number if times, this greenery-festooned façade caught our attention today, perhaps because it looked so green and fresh. It’s not ivy, but what is it? (My botanical ignorance again). Tigger suggests it is budleia.

Myddelton Square Garden was deserted today, in contrast to the busy scenes there on previous visits. Small changes in weather can cause big changes in human behaviour, it seems. Or perhaps, with the easing of restrictions, people are going further afield and no longer staying in the neighbourhood. Possibly irrationally, I feel a little sad about that as I have grown love our neighbourhood rambles.

Here (as you may recognise) we are looking along River Street, named after the nearby but now invisible New River. Right at the end, you might be able to descry Myddelton’s, our modest destination for today.

Some time ago ( see Clouds and cushions), I remarked on the cushions in the window of the shop opposite Myddelton’s which had bees as their patterns. Today, there was a completely new set.

These cushions also have on them a creature of some sort though I was at a loss to identify it. Did they sell all the bees? Or do they have a warehouse full of cushions somewhere?

Now that masks are supposedly required to be worn in shops (a rule that observation suggests is commonly ignored), we donned ours as we entered Myddelton’s. Tigger enquired of the proprietor whether he would prefer us to wear them but he said no.

Finally, if you are wondering about the meaning of the title, here is the explanation:

Tigger took this photo of the contents of someone’s recycling bin. Her quick eye and taste for the ironic had spotted something. Note the object at top left. It is letter bearing the sender address of 10 Downing Street. It seems that the householder has consigned a letter from the Prime Minister to the bin.

That sounds about right to me.

Today’s trip takes us to Sittingbourne in Kent. This will be our first train ride since lockdown.

We started out at about 7:30 and took the 214 to St Pancras. We found only one place open for croissants and coffee so bought breakfast there. How do you eat breakfast while wearing a face-mask (obligatory in stations and on trains )? With extreme difficulty!

Our train is scheduled for 8:25.

Having bought tickets, we went up to upper level from which the HS1 departs. (See above.) The train left on time. As it was so early there were relatively few people on board. It remains to be seen what conditions are like on the return journey.

The weather is warm but the sky is cloudy, as you can see in the above window-shot by Tigger.

We reached Sittingbourne at about 9:30 and were picked up by a relative in his car.

We were taken to the Isle of Sheppey. As you would expect on an island, there are sea views everywhere. (Actually, some of these views are of the estuary rather than the sea. I look at a map will clarify this.)

We went first to Shellness which is a small and fairly remote hamlet. Among its amenities are a nudist beach.

Entrance to the private estate of Shellness.

Another drive along narrow, bumpy roads took us to Harty Ferry. The ferry is long gone but there are landscape views and a pub called Harty Ferry House.

To be served we had to wait in the porch and give our order which was served to our table outside.

This is the lion door knocker of Harty Ferry House.

Looking across the estuary. The tide goes out a long way.

We visited St Thomas’ Church, standing serenely in its landscaped churchyard. You can see some of the removed gravestones on the right. The church is reckoned to date from the 11th and 12th centuries.

Inside the church.

A closer view of the altar area.

The village where this church stands is called Eastchurch but the church is called All Souls.

We parked the car at Minster where there are wide open views of the estuary and its beach.

At Queenborough, we visited the Flying Dutchman pub for refreshments. They required a minimum order of £5 if we wished to pay by contactless. Eh? What century are they living in?

Possibly the century in which this pretty Guildhall was built. It dates from 1784 when it replaced an earlier guildhall.

As you can see, this was rather a whirlwind tour. Tigger knew the island from holidays spent here in her youth and enjoyed revisiting it.

The Guildhall was (for me, at least) a pleasant note on which to end the tour.

We were driven back to our arrival point, Sittingbourne, where we soon had a train to St Pancras.

This was our first post-lockdown outing by train. It went off smoothly, I’m glad to say. The small numbers of people at stations and on trains made it easy to maintain social distancing.

I wrote this post “on the hoof”, that is, as we travelled around. That will explain the rough edges!

It was very warm today, with hardly any breeze, so we kept to the shade as much as possible. Our outing took us to one of London’s most famous parks.

Sainsbury’s, Camden Town

To start, we took the 214 bus to Camden Town and visited the Sainsbury’s store there. This is another “first” for us: the first time we have been shopping together since lockdown began.

We picked up a couple of items we needed at home and the makings of a picnic lunch to eat in the park.

Upper deck, 274 bus

Then we boarded a 274 bus that would take us to Regent’s Park. This too was a first in one sense, namely that because there were no seats left downstairs, we went to the upper deck – the first time we had done so since lockdown.

Entrance to Regent’s Park

We left the bus here, at one of the entrances to the park. It also leads to another famous institution.

Regent’s Canal

The path leads to a bridge over the Regent’s Canal. The above mentioned institution is of course ZSL, the Zoological Society of London’s zoo. In the above photo, if you follow the line of the right-hand tow path, you might be able to make out the aviary, designed by Lord Snowdon and now a Grade II* listed building.

Into the park

We entered the park along this broad avenue. It was pleasantly shaded under the foliage. Just as well, because the park is large and we had some way to go to our chosen picnic spot.

Big trees

I was very taken by the tall and stout old trees in the park. I don’t know how old they are but they will have lived through (and survived) a consuderable slice of history.

Drinking fountain

This drinking fountain, dating from 1869, was installed as a gift by Sir Cowasjee Jehangir. I have written about it previously and you will find more details there: Around Regent’s Park.

Pleasant under the trees

We wandered under the trees where it was pleasantly cool and shady.

Acorns but still green

Tigger pointed out these still green acorns sprouting on the oak trees. I hope there is a good crop to help the squirrels through the winter!

Another beautiful old tree

I was impressed by the handsome shape and the large size of this tree.

The broad trunk

Its broad and gnarled trunk is also impressive. How many summers are recorded in its rings, I wonder?

The pond

For our picnic we came to the rose garden in the middle if Regent’s Park and beside it, a pond. I assume the pond has a name but, if so, I have not managed to discover it.

The waterfall

The pond is fed by a waterfall that is quite picturesque in its own right. We found a shaded bench and ate our picnic lunch there.

Sparkly fly
From a photo by Tigger

This fly came to join us for a while. His metallic green body sparkled in the sun. Tigger managed to photograph him on her own hand. “Like an emerald ring,” said Tigger.

Big fish

When we were on the point of leaving, I stopped to watch a coot and then saw something else: a large fish! It was swimming close to the surface in leisurely fashion. At a distance it was hard to estimate its size but I would guess it was about a foot (30cm) long.

A final view of the pond

We left the pond and walked towards the edge of the park. We had done a lot of walking and, despite having rested during the picnic, I was looking forward to finding a seat on a bus!

Marylebone Parish Church

We reached the road near Marylebone Parish Church (built 1813-17). From here we walked to the bus stop at Baker Street. There we caught a 205 bus for the Angel.

There remained one more thing to do before going home…

Saint Espresso

…buy coffee, of course! We were too tired to walk to either Jusaka or Myddelton’s but, happily, Saint Espresso was handy for the bus stop. Job done.

Tomorrow we are off on another jaunt, our most ambitious since lockdown. More about that, though, in due course.