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.

Oh Lordy.

I have ten days to acclimatise myself. Furtle Ma has hinted that it might be nice if we all meet up “In Town” for a meal on Easter Saturday. I am going to meet the in-laws, as it were. I can’t complain; it’s been nearly two years and Furtle has made the trip up to see my gang twice in that time (admittedly the second was in less than ideal circumstances). Nonetheless, ten days is time aplenty to allow the nerves to fray and all the hideous possibilities for embarrassment - that intellectually we know will not occur - to play out, ripen and enhance themselves in the imagination.

Still: history and beer shall be our saviours. I shall talk history with Furtle Ma and pour beer down the neck (hopefully the inside of the neck) of Furtle Pa. I shall be relatively abstemious myself, in my best bib and tucker (or at least, clean and presentable bib and tucker) and turn on the charm.

I can already feel the first flutterings of the butterflies. D-Day minus ten and counting.

London seems sluggish this morning and the people furtive. I suppose furtive is the word I want; there’s an underlying anxiety and people seem to be moving around silently in clusters as if there’s safety in numbers. The tube in to the city was packed, which is unusual for that time of day in the middle of the holiday season.

I am guessing that there is a slight nervousness around given the news concerning the heightening of the security level to critical together with the news that security services have foiled an ambitious terror attack on civil aircraft over the UK (which hasn’t stopped flight cancellations in and out of the country, especially to the Middle East).

The weather has changed, too. Although it is still warm, the skies have greyed over and the wind is up; trees are bending in comparatively strong gusts and there is just a hint of thunder in the air.

Taken together, there is almost an air of anticipation with just a little underlying tension. I am not the most sensitive person on the planet, so if I can feel it, it must be strong.

Of course, it could all just be twaddle and I am imagining it. It might simply be down to the population pondering the collapse of the Ashley Cole transfer between Arsenal and Chelsea over the former club’s valuation of the player. I tend to the view that Chelsea never wanted him and the entire thing has just been a well-orchestrated piece of gamesmanship to unsettle their nearest and most consistent league rivals.

But I have my camera with me just in case anything interesting kicks off. I'm that anxious to tap into the zeitgeist.

After the events of yesterday, there is a sort of eerie calm over London today. The place is very quiet. I noticed it first as I was walking down to the Tube station at Whetstone: very little traffic – less even, than on a Sunday. The journey in was quiet and a little slow – the train halted at Finchley Central for a few minutes as people are being bussed in from stations acting as temporary terminuses on the Piccadilly Line, either side of King’s Cross (The mainline station is open, but the underground station, a crime scene, remains resolutely shut while the police do their thing). Even then, when we went underground at Highgate, there was plenty of room; no-one had to stand.

At Euston, the change to the Victoria Line was equally easy and quiet. No queuing, a seat to sit on.

Despite the fact that the congestion charge has been suspended in central London, traffic is lower than normal. It is very quiet apart from the occasional police siren.

It reminds me of the day after the hurricane in 1987.

So much then, for the bulldog spirit, or the spirit of the blitz, that the media were banging on about yesterday. People have stayed at home, taken a long weekend. Hardly business as usual.

The terrorists may not have won, and they won’t, but the London of which I was so proud yesterday has stayed at home today. They may not have won, but it looks as though the game has gone to extra time, and we won on penalties.

Additional

I am not suggesting as some think, that London is a city in fear. I am suggesting that all things being equal, the much vaunted "defiant spirit" of the inhabitants is manifesting as a day off in front of the telly instead of getting on with business as usual.

I am quietly proud of my adopted city today. Proud of the emergency services in particular, and of the people in general.

For all the individual stories of horror from the attack sites themselves (and some of the stories have been quite horrific - the bottom of a Tube train being blown out while travelling underground, a passenger being sucked into the tunnel into the path of an oncoming train from the other direction...), there has remained an air of calm, with no general panic, and only very few instances when the attacks took place.

Particularly, the Metropolitan Police and the emergency services have worked quickly, quietly and efficiently, to contain and limit the situation. The continued air of calm and control is in no small way down to these people. Our much-maligned health service is coping splendidly, and people have been volunteering to donate blood and other aid.

Those of us who have lived in London (or indeed any of a number of major UK cities: Birmingham, Manchester, Belfast, to name but three)for any length of time will be aware of the attempts of terrorists to destroy the fabric of life and the morale of the people. It doesn't work; it will never work. People in the UK, no matter their ethnic, cultural or religious background just don't live and work that way. We've faced this sort of thing down before, and we will do so again, if necessary. And I do not doubt that we will.

I am expecting a long walk to work tomorrow if the Tube is not back online. The exercise will do me good.