Tuesday 8th November - swimming along to the dentist

Just as we set off this afternoon, there was a real cloudburst - sudden, and luckily quite short as we hadn't gone more than a couple of hundred yards when I uttered the fateful words 'the back door IS locked, isn't it? By the time we had turned right at the end of the road, and right again at the first junction, and right again and returned to our house, (taking all of thee minutes) the rain had stopped. And yes, we had locked the back door...

That was just a lucky break in the rain for us - it pelted down down the first part of the journey so we drove through standing water and gushing gutters and, at one point, through a flood covering all of our side of the road, so that the on-coming traffic had to squeeze over to let our line of vehicles drive slowly and sloshily through.

Then the rain stopped, and the sun came out, and as we drove up the steep hill to the top of the North Downs the trees were glowing in all the autumnal greens, yellows, oranges and brown. Just wonderful.

The dentist who has taken over the practice was as careful and as gentle and as kind possible. The little thingy that puffs air to test for sensitivity uses warmed air! Oh frabjous day! 

I'm just going to have to endure the hygienist net week - but the dentist assures me that the water-pick also uses warm water - calloo callay! 

My BB is going to have to have a couple of sessions fixing a few problems over the coming weeks as well as the hygienist, so we shall be choosing the meals carefully....    

Coming home in the dusk, I watched the huge new moon just above the trees; smiling benevolently, or so it seemed.

Silver

 

Slowly, silently, now the moon

Walks the night in her silver shoon;

This way, and that, she peers, and sees

Silver fruit upon silver trees;

One by one the casements catch

Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;

Couched in his kennel, like a log,

With paws of silver sleeps the dog;

From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep

Of doves in a silver-feathered sleep;

A harvest mouse goes scampering by,

With silver claws and a silver eye;

And moveless fish in the water gleam,

By silver reeds in a silver stream.

 

Walter de la Mare

https://www.poemtree.com/poems/Silver.htm