cr3Amy d1sH

I've just popped out for lunch. I don't know why there's any need for people to say things like "popped" or "dipped" when they make a reference to a shop dash, but they do, so I just did.
Anyway - this was a rare treat. I feel quite rough today...had a few sherberts last night and the effects are still wearing off. So I thought I'd best go find a dish of pure quality with which to ease my suffering.
I had too many food options on Baker Street today, so I took a deep breath and strided into Tescos to make, unknown to me at the time, the proudest purchase of a lunchtime treat I could possibly have ever imagined...

...a Ham & Mushroom Tagliatelle, from the prestigious "Italiano" range of Tesco's own products.

I whisked it back to the office (in a similar style to that adpoted by someone who might "pop" to the shop) and ripped off the outer casing. The plastic film that seperated me from my lunch lay glued tightly across the tub - like the skin across a snare drum...with the snare engaged...
With the co-ordination of a teenaged lad on his first date with a lass he doesn't really dig, I removed the plastic cover with ease. It was later that the matter would become more difficult.

Upon returning to the kitchen, and the microwave, to remove my tv dinner (is it still a tv dinner when you're going to eat it at your desk, instead of on your sofa in front of the telly?), I found that not only had my lunch been scoffed by someone else but that the little swines had also made off with all the tea!!!

NO TEA!!!!!!

Holy shit!



I awoke with a start - looked at the clock on the video and realised I was about four and a half hours late for work! There was nothing for it...



I got up.....and made some tea.

2fronTTeeth

I've not been to the dentist for more than a decade, and thought I was doing quite well on my own. I was hoping to get away without forking out for dental health bills until I was father to my own child, and had decided that perhaps my kid should enjoy the benefits of regular check ups...and stickers (do they still do that?).

So I was having this conversation with a mate recently, and went off to consider signing up with a local dental practice. As is often the way with me I clean forgot, and promptly went home instead to busy myself with anything I could to prevent the outcome of actually doing something to help myself.

And now as the afternoon wears on, the back of my mouth is beginning to throb...I'm not reaching for the Ibuprofen just yet - I'll wait until I start murmuring and chanting with the pain, the way a distressed animal will whimper...ooooooooooooooaaahhh I really should have sorted out a dentist...

I shouldn't think about it. If I'm not aware of the pain there can't be any. Right? So now there's no pain, no pain, not the firstest tiniest littlest hint of any kind of sensation that might not even be related to the farthest-flung thing from anything ever recorded in the history of science and nature along the lines of pain, no way, not on your Nelly, your life, or your Nan.

Right. So now there's no pain there's nothing for me to blether on about. I should leave this, the 'others' will be back soon......I think it's time for some tea....