My toothache had kept me awake all night, and I rung my friendly dentist to see if I can't bring my 8th-July appointment forward. "Can you manage to be here by 11 o'clock?" "With bells on", I replied and jumped in the car for the 50-kilometre drive north to Ulladulla.
He poked and drilled and then, to my astonishment, built the old broken molar back up to its original size. I had expected something a lot more radical, like a jaw-breaking extraction. "We'll try this first", he said. "It's on the same side where you received all that radiation almost three years ago, and chances are it may not be healing up quite so well."
By midday I felt well enough to get stuck into a lunch at the Ulladulla Bowling Club, washed down by a couple of glasses of their house wine. Then we went shopping, Padma for more wool for her needlework and I for more books. Found this 650-page tome which cost 120 riyals (then US$60) in Saudi Arabia but was on sale at my favourite op-shop for a mere dollar. Thirty-five years later I can finally read up on all those miserable years I spent in the world's largest sandbox. Al-Ḥamdu lillāh!
Also in Ulladulla we came across a pop-up vaccination centre: no bookings, no waiting; however, it's only available in the mornings and only dispenses AstraZeneca. It was then already mid-afternoon, so we'll be back tomorrow morning to get our first shot. If AstraZeneca is as bad as some people seem to fear-monger, at least we'll die together! 😀
