…or, if you haven’t brushed up your Latin since the last time ‘Sir’ threw a blackboard rubber at your head, ‘The fear of death troubles me’. Why?
Not mine own, that one – from the pen of Robert Penn Warren. Just about sums up my feelings, though.
Yes, tomorrow morning at 9.30 I shall be gracing the surgery of my dentist with my quaking presence. I’ve had the most god-awful toothache ever since Christmas Day (why do these things wait to hit you when everything’s closed for a week?) and when all the bank holidays were finally over I rang for an appointment with the Demon Driller only to be told he was on holiday! Tchah! So I’ve had to wait an extra week, but of course the moment the appointment was made the tooth subsided and pretended there’d never been a problem.
The certain knowledge that if I cancelled the toothache would return with a vengeance kept me from making that call, so all I have to do now is try to sleep tonight without dreaming about my dentist losing the plot and running amok with a drill whilst I’m cowering in the chair.
I’ll be fine… won’t I?
In the meantime, enjoy this: