I wrote here recently that I'd lost my front tooth and been forced to rely on a denture. Ugh! Actually, UUUGGHHH!!!!!
I really can't tell you how much I hate this thing. It looks OK, but a combination of not being able to feel the roof of my mouth and the fact that I now sound like an "amusing" Ricky Gervais creation made me very unhappy.
But things are looking up.
A couple of weeks ago, when I was back in Northern Ireland, my stepfather Derek very kindly arranged for me to go and see my old dentist.
I say old but he's not that old - I just haven't been to see him since 1994 (according to the records). What he certainly is, though, is brilliant.
This was confirmed within seconds of me opening my mouth and him having a peek inside. Because despite my normal dentist in Leeds telling me that a denture was the only option, my Coleraine superdentist was able to advise that a bridge could take its place - and I could have the roof of my mouth back.
I have to wait a little while before having the work done, to enable my mouth to heel after the tooth extraction. But the long and the short of it is that I now have two appointments booked with the great man in August, a week apart. And, in the seven days in between, I intend to have a lot of fun on the North Coast.
I love it when things work out.
