On the very first day of Lockdown I lost a chunk of tooth.  What was left of the errant molar then continued to shed lumps of itself at random intervals right up until the present day.  Each time I found myself spitting out chunks of dentine, I phoned the dentist, only to be told that she wouldn’t see me unless I was in unbearable pain, unable to sleep, or could not eat.  I will not lie, and none of the above options applied, so I chomped on to the best of my abilities.

Yesterday, the dentist rang me to say that they would see me in one weeks time.  Great news?  Should be, but you know how these things go.  Today, my tooth aches.  I cannot chew on it.  I will not be able to sleep for the next seven days.  Psychosomatic?  I presume so.  I can live with it.  What’s of most concern is that six days from now I have to submit an online form to certify that I do not have any Covid symptoms – and I can feel the countdown ticking in my head as I type…