Birthday; impending dentistry

Took the afternoon off on 12 August to go and watch the last part of The Hobbit trilogy with Ray. We were both left distinctly underwhelmed by the film; the story really doesn’t merit having been stretched out into three parts – or at least, if you’re going to, spend the extra time on the characters and fleshing out interesting strands of the story. Battles, and the build up to them, are officially Not Interesting. Well, not to me, anyway.

Ray shared the news that he has been successful in securing a mooring at Enslow Marina on the Oxford Canal, so will be leaving the Thames & Kennet sometime during September – date to be fixed partly depending on the weather. I vaguely know the stretch of canal as he and I went for a walk near there a few years ago. He didn’t seem fazed by the prospect of the longer distance he’ll have to drive to work, but I guess will see how it works out in practice.

Spent a few hours at Gail’s husband Rob’s 40th birthday party a couple of Saturdays ago, though he isn’t actually 40 until mid-September. It was one of those parties containing different categories of guests, none of whom knew each other, so there were the inevitable little factions. Ruth’s mum and aunt were both there, so we spoke to them for most of the time, though I did dimly recognize one guest as working for Reading Borough Council (as does Rob), as I think it was him we saw about our Building Notice for our once-planned upstairs bathroom. The occasion did feature a hog roast with some pretty excellent crackling.

Kyoto Garden

On the Sunday and Monday we had an overnight stay in London, as last year, to celebrate my birthday, again staying in a Premier Inn on the Sunday night, this time the London Holborn hotel. We started by getting the bus over to Kensington High Street and seeing if we could visit the Kensington Roof Gardens – sadly not, as they were closed until the following Wednesday, but they sound worth a visit. They are on the roof of the building that evidently used to be the department store Derry & Toms, according to Ruth’s aunt, who evidently remembers it - as it closed in 1973, I don’t. Also hadn't realised that Barkers had now closed, though thankfully the spectacular building is still standing. I used to go to Kensington High Street reasonably regularly in my late teens and early twenties - partly because of the now long-closed Kensington Market, where I bought a little black jacket with now-unfashionable shoulder pads, which I still have - but haven't been anything like so much in recent years.

We walked down the High Street and had a look at the Kyoto Garden in Holland Park, though it was rather crowded. Then – claiming birthday dibs – I made Ruth walk down to the King’s Road, which I thought a pleasant stroll through posh streets, including The Boltons, but she confessed partway round that she isn’t quite as enamoured of just walking around in London as I am. This is a serious blow - though as I am not quite as enamoured of browsing shoes, handbags and jewellery as she is, it probably evens out. We did stop for a cup of tea en route. Made the discovery that Heal’s on the King's Road has closed its doors and seems to be becoming a Metro Bank – how sad. The Tottenham Court Road branch appears to be still there at the moment. We had a browse in Peter Jones as Ruth is on a quest for a new handbag, and also in Peruvian Connection, where she bought a dress. Then caught a bus across town and checked in at our hotel on Red Lion Street.

We made our way down to Soho in the evening for a cocktail at Balans, the bar opposite Comptons that we’d been to previously. This time I had made my mind up to have a cocktail, and decided beforehand to go for a margarita, being the only cocktail I’ve so far tried that I’d order again. However, in a fatal moment of trying to vary things, I went for a frozen rather than a classic margarita and decided to have it flavoured with passion fruit, with the result that what arrived just looked like a helping of sorbet, albeit alcoholic. Perhaps I’m not cut out for cocktail bars. The three young chaps at the table next to us were sharing a bottle of rosé, so perhaps we should have gone for that. Afterwards we wandered round trying to identify somewhere to go for dinner, and made the somewhat odd decision to try Garlic & Shots, a low-key looking establishment that looks a bit out of place among the mainly quite smart restaurants in the area. However, it was a bit of a laugh: remarkably dim lighting, pleasantly cheap yet drinkable house red, pleasant serving staff and an informal atmosphere. We did indeed have some delicious roasted garlic, accompanied by garlic bread, to start. For a main I chose the baby back ribs, though ended up envying Ruth’s steak.

On the Monday morning I’d booked us in for breakfast at the Darwin Brasserie at the Sky Garden, which I’d only been dimly aware of before but my colleague Jill had been there with her family a couple of weeks before and recommended it as somewhere to go. Having been there, it’s certainly an amazing space with incredible views – we were lucky to go on a clear sunny morning – though I thought the term ‘garden’ somewhat overblown – it’s really more in the way of a bit of planting. A few pics here. We had a nice if expensive breakfast at a table with a great view. Only downside was the un-warmed croissants, which I duly left a comment about in a TripAdvisor review. Well, you have to, don’t you.

After leaving the Sky Garden we checked out and made our way over to Tate Britain – where I’d not been for a number of years – to see the Barbara Hepworth exhibition ‘Sculpture for a Modern World’. Some beautiful pieces on display. I’m keen to see the Sculpture Garden at her former studio, but that does necessitate organising a trip to Cornwall, which I haven’t done yet.

Episode of toothache a week or so ago in the molar that was diagnosed with a crack earlier in the year (bit down on something, possibly a salt crystal, in tooth with large filling; X-ray subsequently showed crack under filling; dentist made woeful noises about possible root canal needed in future). Partly in fear of likely cost of major dental treatment and partly due to thinking that I really should register with a dentist in Milton Keynes, I made attempts to register as an NHS patient with a dentist here – however, despite having spent a lunch hour going in and filling in their registration form, they still haven’t confirmed that they’ve registered me. As a result, when toothache became worse a couple of weeks ago I panicked and booked an appointment at my private dentist in Caversham. My usual dentist was away and I had to see her stand-in, a chap named Peter who suggested that my toothache might be due to bruxism (apparently the latest buzz thing in dentistry). He even gave me a Post-It with 'Bruxism' written on it, so that I could Google it. As I was visibly sceptical, he hedged his bets and gave me a 7-day course of Amoxicillin as well, thus possibly contributing to the apparently rampant problem of over-prescription of antibiotics – though in my case no one can say that I demanded them, as I don’t think I’ve taken antibiotics since childhood (if then). I dutifully finished the course, and my toothache did wear off about halfway through the course, though whether because of anything to do with the drugs, who knows. Saw my usual dentist Jill earlier this week, who confirmed that bruxism was NOT a likely explanation of my toothache and suggested various treatment options. Have said I’ll go away and think about it.

Speed; bulb tea; fresh air and exercise

The 'Most Popular' slot on the BBC News website continues to amuse, with this incongruous pairing in the top two spot yesterday.

Recently paid my third speeding fine (and collected accompanying penalty points) following being snapped last October. Highly irritating as always. Also, am mightily peeved at not being offered a speed awareness course in place of the penalty points, as a number of people I know seem to have been on these, including Dad who apparently enjoyed the one he went on recently. The initial form I was sent gave me the option to indicate if I’d like to go on a course if a place was available, which I did, but no joy. October’s snapping was near Watlington and would have been on one of my Monday morning cross country drives to join the M40. The previous occasion was near Ross-on-Wye in 2008, and the first in Henley in 2000, when as I recall I was cruising happily back to our flat for breakfast after dropping Ray off at work. All three in 30 mph zones. On the 2008 occasion I was driving a hire car so, embarrassingly, had the notice forwarded to me by the hire people.

Looking back at the notice from 2000: TVP seem now to state the speed you were doing, which they didn’t then. Also my fine on that occasion was a mere £40, whereas it had gone up to £100 this time. Am attempting to take great care to keep to the limit in the 30 mph zones on my Monday drive, even when that involves ignoring other cars backing up behind you and trying to overtake.

Relayed the tale of woe to my hairdresser Lisa on Saturday, who commented that she hadn't seen me as a speed demon. Assured her that I am merely a victimised innocent.

Went for a solo dinner at Wagamama after work last Thursday and ordered a jasmine flowering tea, thinking it would be served in a little pot as per when I’ve had it in other places. Was surprised to be served with a glass of hot water on a saucer, with what looked like a bulb next to it. Assuming I was supposed to put the bulb into the water, I did, and it did indeed burst forth into something resembling a flower. It was the first time I’d encountered flowering tea, but apparently it is a known concept. Not sure whether it's supposed to do something special for you, or whether it's just meant to look pretty. Actually it looks a bit weird, unless sipping from a cupful of leaves and twiggy bits is your thing.

Looking back towards Tanners Lane

Enticed Ruth out for a healthy walk on Saturday, up past Highdown School and along Highdown Hill Road, which peters out into a path leading uphill to Tanners Lane (although there was tarmac visible so quite possibly it was a through route for traffic at some point in the past). Crossed a field from Tanners Lane to join Dysons Wood Lane, where we noted this pair of pillars, which a bit of research suggests marked the driveway to Dysons Wood House. Another Geograph picture has a bit more blurb about the house, suggesting that it was earmarked for demolition in 2011. Couldn't find anything subsequent to confirm whether it actually was demolished, but I have to say I couldn't see it from standing by the pillars (though the hedge had grown up a good bit since the first of the pictures).

Walked through Tokers Green back down into Caversham, stopping off at the Griffin for a pint and packet of crisps. Exclaimed at the number of calories in a bag of Kettle Chips.

Prior to the walk, began Saturday with a reluctant visit to see Jill the hygienist at Prospect Street Dental Surgery. Apparently, as Jill mentioned more than once, it had been eight months since my last visit, which had evidently annoyed her since she's asked me to see her every four months. Not sure what my incentive is supposed to be for forking out around £40 to have my teeth scraped and be lectured about tartar buildup, and have taken to trying to stretch the gap between appointments, though Jill doesn't take cancellations lying down and is given to phoning you and forcing you to rebook. Ruth and I theorised that she'll probably start coming round to the house if I cancel another one.

Jasmine; dentists; education events

Charmed that the jasmine growing around the front door has produced lots of attractively scented flowers recently. After the winter it was looking brown and crisp and Ruth was speculating, rather more hopefully than I thought kind, that it might be dead. But no. Look how pretty.

Graduation ceremonies took place last week so the campus was awash with young (surely, younger than they used to be?) students with, in some cases, elaborately overdressed family members. I think I managed to appear in a number of family photos while making my way along the cloisters on the way back from lunch.

Intrigued by the report of the appearance of Jesus on a drainpipe in Coventry, though I have to say it looks a slight stretch of the imagination to me. If this degree of imagination is required, I reckon a pair of discarded pants on the bedroom floor this morning was a dead ringer for the Virgin Mary.

Went for the usual thrice-yearly scrape and polish with hygienist last Thursday. I took the perhaps unprincipled decision to abandon NHS dentists about three years ago after being registered as an NHS patient in three different dental surgeries in Reading within the space of a few years: one decided to stop accepting NHS patients; the next was a shabby little hole containing an abrasive Greek bint whom I never remember cracking a smile, followed by a surgery in Caversham with a semi- abandoned air and a Vicky Pollard-like receptionist, where the dentist probably had an adequate grasp of English but preferred not to use any of it during the consultation, except for an "Ah! You need filling!" towards the end. At that point I decided I needed communication skills in addition to a second opinion (my previous, only, filling had been around 20 years earlier and I was a bit sceptical) so registered at a private dental practice. I'm sure their technical competence is no greater than NHS dentists (my new dentist confirmed that I did, indeed, need the filling) but their customer service and communication is infinitely better. Even the hygienist is a softened version of the ferocious Nazi witch prototype that I remember NHS hygienists fitting when I was younger. After the hygienist’s appointment, my dentist, a pleasant jolly woman who was undoubtedly head girl of her private school in a former life, told me, as usual, that my teeth were wholly uninteresting and threw in a jovial parting comment about flossing, before charging me £35 for the 5-minute consultation. This is the life. Next stop BUPA.

Spent last Friday at the National Strategic Skills Audit South East Regional Roadshow, which involved taking the train to Gatwick Airport and then getting a taxi to the Copthorne Hotel Effingham Gatwick which, despite the name, is only a short car drive involving a motorway journey from Gatwick Airport. No wonder the fare was £16. The hotel is a bizarre faux-Mediterranean affair with its own golf course, which was awash with elderly golfers – in fact my cab driver nearly took out one particularly doddery looking specimen on the way up the drive. The event itself was well organised though did involve the compere pleading with people during the welcome address not to bugger off after lunch what with the lure of it being Friday/sunny/Andy Murray playing at Wimbledon. Didn’t entirely work, given that each table sat 10 people and mine was down to 4 after the lunch break.

Ruth and I wandered briefly into Reading’s new branch of The Range on Saturday. According to their hyperbolic website, The Range’s wares range “from everything you’ve ever dreamt of to anything you could ever imagine”. In practice, it’s a bit like Hobbycraft combined with Matalan combined with Homebase. It does sell rabbit food, which could be useful. I spent 59p on a ‘Harvest Munch’ snack for the bunnies, which they have so far spurned. Here it is placed temptingly on the floor, plus Lola’s bottom as she hops past it.

Went to another event on Sunday, as I had volunteered a while ago to attend a day of the first-ever Sunday Times Festival of Education at Wellington College in Crowthorne. By the time the event came around, both the universities minister David Willetts and film mogul/founder of Skillset David Puttnam had pulled out, making it distinctly less relevant to Lifelong Learning Networks than it could have been. Bits of the day were interesting, though, and Kenneth Baker was good value. Spent a predictable portion of the day envying people who go to school in such surroundings. Here's one of the school buildings and a rather nice woody glade where I ate my lunch.
Managed to follow the wrong crowd of people on the way in to the College grounds and initially found myself in a gymnasium about to register for a chess tournament. Realised just in time. Phew.