Dentists, bargains and disappointment.

I went to see my dentist this morning. Some time ago, some time in August I think it was, I bit on a crusty piece of bread at breakfast and found myself with fragments of tooth in my mouth. Very annoying. I fully expected to start having toothache but nothing happened. The tooth had been filled ... in a big way ... Years ago. The filling was still in place. Some of the remaining original tooth enamel had given way. But no pain! And so I ignored it until I went for a check-up some time before Christmas. Even my dentist felt there was no need for urgent treatment but it clearly needed stabilising, if only to get rid of the sharp edge of amalgam filling that my tongue kept exploring. 

So finally, this morning, off I went to keep my appointment with the dentist. Did I want an injection, he asked me, or should he just carry on regardless? With no hesitation whatsoever, my inner coward came to the fore and asked for an injection. Better a numb mouth for a while than the humiliation of begging the dentist to stop. I would make a terrible spy. I would tell all the secrets at the first stage of any nasty interrogation. But all is well now. 

As I lay back in the dentist's chair and he inserted instruments of torture into my mouth - even a mild scale and polish is a nasty business as far as I am concerned - I reflected on how amazing it is that we so completely put our trust in people most of us see only twice a year. All right, I have known our dentist for a considerable time, ever since my children were quite small, but even so I know precious little about him, truth to tell. I can fully understand the reaction of the small daughter of a friend of mine, many years ago, when invited to sit in the dentist's chair and let him take a look at her teeth. "No way," said the small girl, "He's not putting his finger in my mouth. It might be dirty!" Her mother was understandably mortified but ... 

Dentist's visit over and done with, I stopped off in the shopping centre with my numb mouth and had a look at the sales rack in a local store. For once, a bargain! Something I was looking for and at a reduced price, a third of the original price. This is such a rare occurrence in my life. A friend of mine used regularly to find excellent and unusual, even quirky, items of clothing for under a tenner from a bargain store in Manchester. Whenever I went, however, they only had tat, complete and utter tat. Another friend trawls round the reduced price racks in the shops and finds bargains galore. Not me! At least only very rarely! Part of the problem is that I find cut-price racks really off-putting and dispiriting. I rapidly grow bored with the sordid business of looking for the nugget of bargain-gold among the dross of sales goods! It was pure serendipity that I found what I wanted so quickly this morning. 

So, having achieved two goals today, I came home and dealt with email and reading the papers on line. Answering an email to our landlady's daughter in Vigo led me into the frustration of autocorrect on my iPad. It's bad enough when I type in English and my machine thinks it knows better than I do what it is I really want to say. When I type in a foreign language, though, it really has a field day. Sometimes it changes one Spanish word for another, one with which it is already familiar. Thus, "piso" (apartment) became "pozo" (well) or "peso" (weight). Why would my iPad know "pozo", surely a word I use less frequently than "piso"? And why has it just offered me another alternative to "pozo", namely "Pazo", with an incomprehensible capital letter. All I can think for that one is that at the demented little machine remembers me referring to a stately home in Galicia by name, such as the Pazo Quiñones de León in Vigo. 

Best, however, are the weird English alternatives to Spanish words that it offers me. Here is today's crop: 

entras - extras or entrap 
hicimos - hi imps 
insoportable - insipid table. 

I really love the last one!!! 

And, yes, before anyone comments, I am aware that I can turn off autocorrect. I just have not got around to it. Besides, what would I have to moan about? 

Then there are the news items. 

I am feeling somewhat provoked by Pope Francis, a pope who so far has seemed a very reasonable, right thinking man. Apparently he has seen fit to imply that it might be possible to understand the attack is on the Charlie Hebdo premises. “One cannot provoke; one cannot insult other people’s faith; one cannot make fun of faith,” he said. He justified this by going on, “If my good friend Dr Gasparri says a curse word against my mother, he can expect a punch. It’s normal. It’s normal." I know he's from Argentina where they no doubt feel as strongly as all other Latin-based people about insults to their mothers but I think he's overdoing things. I wasn't aware that Christ went round punching people. What about turning the other cheek? And according to Wikipedia, Francis is known for "his commitment to dialogue as a way to build bridges between people of all backgrounds, beliefs and faiths". But, no, a punch is normal, apparently! 

And then there's his visit to the Philippines, where he has reiterated his opposition to contraception. His only concession appears to be to ask priests to be understanding and compassionate when it comes to confession. This in a country where there are just too many children, where young women in their twenties are physically exhausted from having a child every year and emotionally exhausted from not being able to feed them. 

I'm rather disappointed In him, I'm afraid!