kimbofo

Tooth ache

I've just been to the dentist. The only thing he extracted was £45 from my bank account.

I suppose I should be pleased. I had rather suspected he was going to suggest doing a root canal, seeing as the last time I went -- back in January 2006 -- this treatment was on the cards.

Back then, an upper molar had to have a very deep filling put in and my dentist explained that it was likely that a root canal would be needed if the filling did not cure the dull ache I'd been experiencing at the time. Fortunately the ache went away and my tooth has felt perfectly fine... up until recently.

I have had a sore tooth on and off for a few weeks now, but in the early hours of Monday morning it became unbearably painful. Since then, every time I drink something hot the pain shoots right up my cheek and into my eye. Nice!

Anyway, the outcome of today's little visit, in which he prodded and poked all my teeth with blunt instruments, took a bunch of X-rays and carried out some tests on the nerves in my teeth by sticking cold cotton swabs in my mouth (ouch!), is that I just have to wait and see what happens. He seems to think the nerve in the aching tooth is still alive but may be on the way out, so he's asked me to let it be for a couple of weeks. If the pain becomes worse, then he will book me in for a root canal, but has stressed that that process is a last resort.

In the meantime, he's suggested I brush with a sensitive tooth toothpaste and stay away from acidic drinks and foods -- there goes my daily intake of pineapple juice!

The other good bit of news is that the rest of my teeth are in very good condition, despite the fact I haven't had a check up in almost two years! I do look after my chompers though (my dad will be pleased to hear that since he paid for all my orthodontic work when I was a kid) and rarely drink sugary drinks or sticky sweets (chocolate doesn't count, right?), so I'm happy about that. You count your blessings where you can.

How my holiday planning is driving me to distraction

Is it just me, or is it simply impossible to find an attractive well-regarded hotel (with no bad reviews or crappy candid photographs on TripAdvisor) anywhere in Europe that ticks the following boxes:

• a swimming pool
• a bar (preferably by the pool)
• a room with a balcony (sea or mountain view optional)
• no children (I want peace and quiet, not screaming rug rats)
• air-conditioning
• peace and quiet (not too close to busy roads and so on, but so remote that you'd need your own car to find)
• is not outrageously expensive!

Furthermore, is it impossible to find flights to any of my chosen destinations (Italy, Portugal, Greece or Corsica) that do not involve changing planes and hanging around in airports for several hours, so that what should be a three-hour flight gets extended to six hours or more? 

Grrrr.

I have wasted hundreds of hours -- and I'm not exaggerating -- over the past few weeks trying to find my 'ideal' holiday online. Every evening I plug into the internet and start surfing around for potential hotels. In fact, I spent most of yesterday afternoon and evening doing just that -- without luck. The impossibility of the task is not helped by the fact that my dates are totally inflexible (due to work constraints) and most of the places that take my fancy are totally booked up (there goes any plan to visit the Amalfi Coast or Sorrento).

As much as I love the internet, I'm suffering a severe case of information overload. I'm beginning to hanker for the days when you picked up a handful of brochures and then got your local travel agent to do all the legwork. It seemed so much simpler -- and definitely much quicker. At this rate, I'll be needing a holiday to recover from my search for a holiday -- assuming I eventually find one!

Crazy, busy

People often ask me how I am, and I always say life is busy and things are hectic. And that's because I genuinely think my life is busy and hectic. But who am I kidding? Up until a few weeks back it was a walk in the park. Now it is BERSERK!

Ever since I landed the big promotion life has gone totally crazy, busy. I barely have a minute to myself and when I do I am too tired to communicate, whether it be holding a conversation or typing a blog post. The batteries feel so drained I've turned into an unsociable monster. I come home and all I want to do is watch mindless television because it means I don't have to think about anything else.

The new job has me working around the clock. My head hits the pillow at around 11pm and even though I am dead tired my brain will not shut off and I'll be lying WIDE AWAKE at 2.30am dreaming up feature ideas or new methods of managing the staff or potential ways to boost our dying circulation figures. When I eventually drop off, it feels like I get about two hours of shut-eye before the alarm goes off and I've got to drag myself into the office (via the tube and not my bike) to start the process all over again. Honestly, it never stops.

On top of this, I've nursed myself through a rather inconvenient set of injuries (I had a stack on my bike a couple of weeks back), put up with the builders installing air bricks in our flat (I have never seen so much dust in my life), started some redecoration (put on hold because of my bike accident) and entertained some visitors from Dublin who were a lovely diversion from everything else happening right now.

Thankfully, things will ease up slightly next week. My father arrives from Australia for an extended visit on this side of the world, so I've booked four days off work to spend some time with him. I'm looking forward to accompanying him on some touristy excursions and the occasional visit to a pub or two. I think I will drink and shop my way into some kind of stupor, if only to stop my brain from the constant whirring...

But if it sounds like I'm complaining I'm not. I'm loving the new job. At last I have the chance to put into practise all the things I've thought about and taken on board over the course of my career. Sure it's hard work and the first few months are going to be bumpy and stressful and challenging, but I'd rather be crazy, busy than bored out of my skull. I just wish it wasn't quite so exhausting...

Exhausted

I came home from work tonight and instead of heading to the pub for a few pints, as most most normal people would do, I headed straight to bed for a nap.

I snuggled under the duvet at around 6.15pm, thinking I'd close my eyes for 15 minutes and then go out for the evening feeling refreshed.

I woke up two-and-a-half hours later. And then couldn't be bothered doing anything except slobbing in front of the telly.

It's been a long week...

How to lose a lot of weight in just three weeks...

... get pneumonia.

I'm telling you I looked in the mirror today and didn't recognise the gaunt face.

I then put on my jeans and I swear it looked like I had stolen MC Hammer's trousers (circa 1987) they were so damn baggy. Honestly, the arse in my jeans was hanging somewhere down near my knees!

To celebrate this incredible weight loss, you know what I did? I ate a whole 200g packet of M&S Percy Pigs and I don't feel remotely guilty about it!

Anatomy of an illness, or why it's not much fun coughing your lungs up in Venice

So I am stuck at home and I am bored. My mind is active and I want to go out and about and do things, but as soon as I get out of bed and walk the length of this poky apartment I start wheezing like a little old lady who has been munching on the cancer sticks too long. I have to remind myself to take it easy, to not rush things and to make the most of this restful time by reading and blogging and surfing the net. (Unfortunately, I can't watch TV because ours blew up on Saturday night, so I can't even be comforted by the likes of Richard & Judy, Oprah Winfrey or three-year-old episodes of Neighbours -- a blessing in disguise, perhaps?)

I have been sick since Wednesday October 25, which is three weeks ago now. It first started with aches and pains, mainly in my legs, and a raging fever, followed by a dry cough and a headache. I took the Thursday off work, hoping a day's rest might cure me before we headed off on our week-long trip to Venice on the Saturday, but it didn't really help. If truth be known, the only reason I dragged myself into work on the Friday was so I could collect my Puma trainers which were lying underneath my desk (don't ask -- ever since I took up cycling to work the office has turned into a veritable wardrobe, I have trousers, shirts and shoes lying everywhere).