The best laid plans often have a habit of going astray, and
Thursday afternoon was no exception. I spent a fun filled morning clearing out
various kitchen cupboards and drawers, in preparation for our 30-year-old
kitchen to be ripped out, in a few weeks’ time, and replaced by a shiny new
one. We’re splashing the cash a bit, but it’s a job that is long overdue. If
all goes according to plan, the lion’s share of the work will take place whilst
Mrs PBT’s and I are away on our round-Britain cruise. My wife is an inveterate hoarder, although she won’t thank me for saying it, so I’m adopting the
softly-softly approach of sifting through, and disposing of, the items that
have accumulated during the last 30 years that we’ve lived in this house.
I then engaged in an hour-long conversation with an advisor,
from Pension Wise, the UK Government backed advisory service, that helps
people, like me, who are contemplating retirement, make the right choices, when
it comes to choosing a pension. The process was a one-to-one, pre-booked phone
call with a Pension Wise advisor, and such is the popularity of this service,
that my call was booked almost a month ago. The advisor and I had a most useful
conversation, regarding the various options available to me – purchasing an
annuity, drawing down on my funds, over a period of time, withdrawing my entire
pension pot as a lump sum, along with several other options. There is lots to
think about, although hat the end of the day it comes down to a difficult
balancing act between how long my combined pension pots last, and how long it
is until I shuffle off this mortal coil. At the end of the consultation I was
sent a summary document, full of useful links and advice. Something for a rainy
day, methinks, but as I’m not planning to give up work for several years (how
else will I fund those cruises?), I can digest this information at my leisure.
After collecting Mrs PBT’s from the scaffolding company,
where she does a weekly stint in the office, we drove home. I dropped the car
off and then set off down the hill, and into Tonbridge, where I had a dental
appointment, relating to a filling that unfortunately fell out from one of my
upper molars, and nearly ended up being swallowed. That was Easter Saturday,
and yesterday (Thursday) was the first convenient and available appointment. I
was rather nonplussed, as the tooth was filled just under two months ago, so I
took the filling along with me, in a small plastic bag, as evidence.
The
dentist’s initial conclusion was that the filling had fallen out, because in
comparison with the tooth, it was on the large side, and there wasn’t really
sufficient tooth for the material to bond to. I was tempted to ask, why had she
filled it in the first place, when after numbing that area of my upper jaw she
discovered that the tooth had cracked. After a spot of cleaning up, she took a
photo and invited me to turn around for a look.
There was no doubting the large crack, right down the centre of the
tooth, and no doubting either that it would have to come out. As my jaw was
already partially numbed, it made sense to have it removed there and then.
My plans for a couple of pints at Fuggles, on the way home, went
out of the window and so, following the advice of the practice nurse, I took
the bus home, instead of walking. What
made matters worse was Eileen had ordered us a meal from our local
Chinese-takeaway, and with young Matthew, round at his new girlfriend’s place
for the evening, there would be more for us to enjoy. As things turned out,
despite eating on right hand side of my mouth, I still manged to scoff a fair
amount of chicken chow mein, rice, plus some crispy seaweed. There was no beer though,
as I didn’t really feel like any, and I’m not sure that I’ll be having any tonight.
Tomorrow though, is another day, and we shall have to see what
happens, but after the fiasco of Easter Monday, I shall be searching desperately
for “beer nirvana.” (Teaser alert, you will have to wait until next time to
find out what happened – or rather what didn’t!)
