Further ramblings of a self-made pauper

Well it seems that one decision has been made for me. I had been putting it off for a month or two, but now I don’t think I can. This is the trouble with dentistry – once you get involved with them it’s a domino effect inside your mouth. They either find new things to pay for putting their kids through college, or leave little dental time bombs so you volunteer to pay them the money they need to put their kids through college. Either way, Gentle Reader, the loser is most decidedly not the dentist.

Having – you should forgive the phrase – bitten the bullet and gone to the dentists for the first time in many years, I have had two fillings and one extraction. The decision I have been putting off is whether to pay £400 for a crown that they cannot guarantee or simply have that tooth extracted too, leaving me with a corking gap on the left. Long-time readers will know that I have a fear of dentistry; an atavistic horror that has only partially been assuaged by recent experiences. Despite this, I was leaning toward the expensive gamble of the crown that may not take. I don’t really want more gaps than I need. Sadly, finances may mean that I have to go for a simple extraction.

Last night there was a twinge in the tooth in question. Not enough to disturb me badly and certainly not enough to keep me awake last night, but during the day today there has been the occasional throb - not a continuous ache, but certainly the odd wave of ache. I have been to Boots and purchased my favourite paracetamol and codeine painkillers just to keep it under control. I’ll see how it goes for the next couple of days, but if it keeps up I shall have to pay a visit again. With the move I cannot afford a crown, so the cavernous gap on the left it may well be.

Bum.

I am not looking forward to morning.

Tomorrow is the funeral, and as Shalewa's line manager I am going along to represent the division. I am also going along to represent myself, because I liked the woman. But I don't know any of her family, and I don't know what one says in these circumstances.

At what point do condolences, however sincere, become intrusion, and where is the dividing line between reserve and standoffishness? How long do I stay before I have outstayed my welcome at a family event, and how do I know that I am leaving disrespectfully early?

What do you say?

I am no good at funerals. I don't do funerals. I have only done three in my life; I avoided each of my paternal grandparents' funerals because I was young and didn't understand. I missed Uncle Des' funeral in January because I had to pack and get the Hell Out Of Dodge a week later, and couldn't spare the time or money to go back to Telford.

I have been to three funerals. Precisely that. One for my Uncle Ted who I'd only got to know in the last three years of his life. I was surrounded by family - my family - I'd never met.

What do you say?

Twenty-five years ago, I went to the funeral of my best friend's father. It was a frosty and cold January morning and I recall thinking how considerate that they'd gone for cremation.

I would rather do just about anything other than attend the funeral tomorrow.

But I liked Shalewa, and her desk is an empty space in the office. So I shall just bite down hard and go.