A stroll by the Thames, a dizzying trip on the Dublin Eye and a straining of the neck to glance up at the time on the clock face of Big Ben, such was
my recent sojourn round Westminster. And what time was it? ‘Tooth hurty’, as all day I had noticed a mild pain in my molar which now came to a head
outside England’s mighty seat of power.

Isn’t it terrible when your wanderings are upset by a wretched little pain in the gob? Of course it had nothing to do with the immense bag of sweets I
had eaten which all the dentists in Dublin would have frowned upon. I dreamed of ignoring the pain
and starting a cataclysmic domino effect as my stubborn denial erected ‘ dental practice sales’ signs throughout the winding streets of the big smoke.

It was probably the location that did it, or the espresso, perhaps both, but I refused to bow to this rude rupture of the cosmeticdentistryguide.co.uk/articles/root-canal.html and the
next day, to teach me a lesson, it was worse. The heady mix of candy, Parliament and stiff upper-lippedness caused my downfall and the dental chair now
beckons.