Woot Canal

Oh innocence, how soon the world does change it ways.

It was all boundless energy in the early morning sweeping up olive leaves and pine needles from the garden as the sun gradually swung around the hill.

By four in the afternoon I was flat in the dentist's chair - Teresa, who was all smiles and 'voilas' - having my molar decanalised. It was alright, except when some of the disinfectant for the root canals leaked into my throat - felt like neat bleach.

I felt pretty sorry for myself later in the evening but a dose or two of Campari and soda helped.