If you've been around this blog for a while, you may remember that, from time to time, I have ranted about the disgraceful dearth of dentists in these parts - NHS dentists, that is. There is dental care to be had if you are able to fork out, so you do have a choice; pay large sums of money, notwithstanding the fact that you already pay your National Insurance contributions or hope you never need dental intervention on your pearly whites.
Now however, in the peaceful land of Jennyta, something wonderful has happened. The tooth fairies have arrived - the NHS tooth fairies and not only that but they have set up camp only five minutes down the road from our ancestral pile! Invitiations to apply to register as patients appeared surreptitiously in the chemist's and I duly applied on behalf of Keith and myself.
Today, a message on the answer machine invited us to ring for an appointment. OK so it's not until September and Keith will moan about going but at last we have what everyone should have, an NHS dentist.
Cautionary tale
This is the story of a boy.
The boy was in Year 6, eleven years old and his parents thought he could do no wrong. Sometimes he was good, sometimes he was bad, just like most boys of his age, except that his parents were convinced he was good all the time. In fact, they couldn't believe that he could possibly be anything else so when the nasty teachers at school told him off or sent home a behaviour slip for them to sign because he had been naughty, they were very angry.
"It's not his fault!" they shouted. "It's those nasty teachers picking on him again.
When the boy heard this, he thought that meant that he could be naughty as much as he liked, because his parents would never believe it and they would stop the nasty teachers from punishing him.
One day, he was very naughty and the deputy headteacher gave him a behaviour slip to take home. When his mother saw it, she was very angry and took her son back into school to watch her shouting at the deputy headteacher and tearing up the behaviour slip.
The deputy headteacher shook her head sadly.
"He'll end up in big trouble when he's older," she murmured.
Today, four years later, the boy appeared in court accused of stealing someone's car and taking his friends for a ride in it, but because he couldn't drive properly and went too fast, the car crashed. Luckily no-one was hurt.
"Aha," said the deputy headteacher, when she heard the news, "I thought that might happen."
The boy was in Year 6, eleven years old and his parents thought he could do no wrong. Sometimes he was good, sometimes he was bad, just like most boys of his age, except that his parents were convinced he was good all the time. In fact, they couldn't believe that he could possibly be anything else so when the nasty teachers at school told him off or sent home a behaviour slip for them to sign because he had been naughty, they were very angry.
"It's not his fault!" they shouted. "It's those nasty teachers picking on him again.
When the boy heard this, he thought that meant that he could be naughty as much as he liked, because his parents would never believe it and they would stop the nasty teachers from punishing him.
One day, he was very naughty and the deputy headteacher gave him a behaviour slip to take home. When his mother saw it, she was very angry and took her son back into school to watch her shouting at the deputy headteacher and tearing up the behaviour slip.
The deputy headteacher shook her head sadly.
"He'll end up in big trouble when he's older," she murmured.
Today, four years later, the boy appeared in court accused of stealing someone's car and taking his friends for a ride in it, but because he couldn't drive properly and went too fast, the car crashed. Luckily no-one was hurt.
"Aha," said the deputy headteacher, when she heard the news, "I thought that might happen."
Gardening
Last year, I decided that the pocket handkerchief sized lawn at the front of the house needed to be divested of its weeds, so I duly bought weedkiller and applied it. Unfortunately, no-one had told the lawn that the weeds should die and the grass survive, and we ended up with rampant dandelions and fast- expiring grass.
Which means that if we are to be able to hold our heads up in the neighbourhood at all, the time is fast approaching when an overhaul is needed. So what shall we have?
New lawn? Possibly but Keith isn't that keen on lawns unless they are concrete and painted green.
How about pea gravel then?
And a few tubs of shrubs artistically arranged.
We could have a stream.
And a fountain.
Or a waterfall.
And we have to have gnomes.
With fishing rods, fishing in the stream.
Or shooting the rapids down the waterfall...
See what happens when you use your inagination?
Yep, you give up and decide to leave it another year!
Reckless Romeo
That magic hour in the early morning when I hover between sleep and wakefulness, mentally girding my loins to face a new day seems destined to be the time when snippets of news wander into my mind which all have the same effect. Not exactly a 'lightbulb' moment, more a 'question mark' moment as in, "Did I really hear that?" Today brought another such moment, courtesy again of Radio 4. (Is there any other radio station?)
In Washington, Tyne and Wear, there is a young man, twenty one years of age, who is soon to become a father
... of seven.
A first reaction might be to feel extremely sorry for the mother of these children but of course, there isn't just one mother, there are seven and he 'is reported to be living apart from the mother-to-be.' We can assume that he didn't live with the others either.
Not only that, but he doesn't work so doesn't support any of his children financially. We, the taxpayers will be picking up that bill. A figure was mentioned on the radio but I was still at the "21??? SEVEN CHILDREN???" stage so missed it.
BBC News website informs us that the number of teenage pregnancies in the north east is 52 per thousand, as opposed to the national figure of 42 and also mentions that
'Condom manufacturers report low sales in the region.'
Hmm, figures!
In Washington, Tyne and Wear, there is a young man, twenty one years of age, who is soon to become a father
... of seven.
A first reaction might be to feel extremely sorry for the mother of these children but of course, there isn't just one mother, there are seven and he 'is reported to be living apart from the mother-to-be.' We can assume that he didn't live with the others either.
Not only that, but he doesn't work so doesn't support any of his children financially. We, the taxpayers will be picking up that bill. A figure was mentioned on the radio but I was still at the "21??? SEVEN CHILDREN???" stage so missed it.
BBC News website informs us that the number of teenage pregnancies in the north east is 52 per thousand, as opposed to the national figure of 42 and also mentions that
'Condom manufacturers report low sales in the region.'
Hmm, figures!
Work commitments
Car washed, lawn mown, washing and ironing done, bag packed and ready for.............
half a day's supply booked so far this week. Let's hope more bookings materialise or Keith's cake and trifle supply will have to be drastically curtailed!
Of course, it means there will be more time to concentrate on the nearly completed best selling novel...............
Dream on...
half a day's supply booked so far this week. Let's hope more bookings materialise or Keith's cake and trifle supply will have to be drastically curtailed!
Of course, it means there will be more time to concentrate on the nearly completed best selling novel...............
Dream on...
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