Teeth.

Your body works with you. That’s always been my belief. That’s a lie, it became my belief when almost all the other constituents of my life felt like they were crumbling away. At that point, my body whispered in my ear ‘hey fatty it’s time to get real’. And the millions of times my mother had told me to ‘put my health first’ seemed to finally sink in.

Your mouth frames your words and your teeth are the keys of your vocal piano – I hadn’t seen to my keys for a number of years (5+) and to be honest my vocal piano was out of tune (enough of the piano already)… So I started being treated at Tribeca Dental Clinique (I have no idea why they didn’t settle on clinic, it’s a bit like ‘Niteclub’ isn’t it?

If you have never experienced dental scaling and scraping, image someone stapling your lips back to your face and being pulled face down tied to a truck along a roughly asphalted road. It’s a bit like that.

The man who performed this act of torture, up there with water-boarding, really infuriated me the first time by absolutely ignoring any attempt to be social, instead waiting for the 24 litres of lidocaine to work whilst snapping on his latex gloves. I thought it was the most impolite of manners, and glared at him whilst he raped my teeth.

At the end of the experience, which lasted a good 4 days, when at the checkout – welcome to healthcare 2009 – I looked across to him and realised why he didn’t make friends with me. It’s that thing where hostages fall in love with their captors. If I started to like him, following his torturous acts, I might fall in love with him and when I fall in love with you, it’s like being hit by a sherman tank with no brakes. He was saving himself.

More importantly he was saving my teeth – and my pride. I’m delighted that I managed to see this through. My heart is lighter, my teeth are lighter and most telling – my wallet is floating.

Is green the new red?

Well according to the outpouring of dialogue on Tabasco (2 comments) it appears that my life is actually incomplete. Green seems to be the way to go. I’ve NEVER tried it and am now going to hunt it out in the Wholefoods that is so large it has its own moons in Tribeca.

Will report back.

A great weekend.

Well thanks to Marie and Julian we’re all clinically exhausted. Manhattan is fresh out of Gin, there’s nothing left in ANY store, and that includes most of fifth avenue, but what’s missing is our sense of love at a great weekend. We did laugh. We did certainly drink, and all the while Marie and I were under the influence of cold medication and warm hearts. Thanks for the flowers guys – it was very sweet.

So life returns to (ab)normal, no one’s here, it’s just the two of us and Top Chef. Sweet joy and sorrow.

In other news, I’ve had to put a note under the downstairs neighbour’s door. Their bass is kicking out and literally moving our sofa with every Def Leppard record they play (I’m not sure it’s Def Leppard – and isn’t it amazing that man can play the drums with one arm?)… but it’s bass-y. I drafted it in a warm and friendly way, simply saying could they please turn down the bass before we come down there and rip their feet off. (Seemed like a novel way to make a point: as is writing a book I suppose).

You may or maynot know that when we lived in Islington, London, we had some serious noisy neighbour issues, so although I’m lighthearted right now, it could all change. If you turn on Sky News/CNN and see a 23 pound lighter communications ‘whizz-kid’ holding a bunch of shabby chic loft dwellers hostage – c’est moi.