Teeth

I went to the shiny dentist. They rang me yesterday morning, having got my number from 1471 (the UK’s “who rang me?” number) and asked what I had been calling about. I said I’d like to make an appointment and they gave me one at 11:30 yesterday, which was about two hours after the conversation. Impressed, I cancelled my other appointment.

I was a bit nervous, I hadn’t been to the dentist for five years and I was worried that I might need loads of work. But no! My teeth are absolutely fine! They’re stained yes, but I did smoke for five years, so that’s not so surprising. Plus I had already noticed this. Then he gave me a clean and a polish. This was remarkably dentist-like, I can see why people are afraid. He had a protective visor and basically drilled the tartar off my teeth with a very high pitched motorised thingy. Same with the polish, except at lower speed and with wierd blue gunk. It was quite intimidating and went on for a good five minutes. During which I just lay there with my mouth open, trying not to get my tongue in the way.

Afterwards though my teeth are quite a bit whiter. The bottom front ones tingle a bit from being exposed once more at the back and I can’t stop feeling them with my tongue.

Muscles

Later on yesterday I decided to get to the swimming pool as well. It’s only a ten minute walk away, if that. The pool is really new. It was built in a joint venture by the council and a health club group. There’s a baby pool and a main pool for the public and a whole load of gym stuff and another pool for club members. It’s a very expensive club, but the pool is only £2.95. Given that everything else in Fulham is eight quid or more, this was a relief.

The changing rooms were unisex, which threw me at first. I walked in, a fully clothed man, to see women in swimsuits and towels. I promptly walked out again and asked where the men’s where. In fact all the actual changing areas are cubicles and just the lockers are shared. The pool itself was new and shiny and not too full, which was a relief. When I swim I have to leave my glasses behind. I am pretty short sighted. This has two effects, 1. I can’t read signs telling me that on no account should I do what I’m doing and, 2. I feel nervous, as you would if you didn’t have complete control of all your senses and were in a new environment.

When I started swimming I found that the pool had order. Three swimming lanes, slow, medium and fast, and a messing about bit for kids and slackers. I tried the fast lane and did crawl, swimming pretty quickly for three lengths. I almost died. I discovered that I have no upper body strength and that my lungs and heart needed gentler treatment. To be fair I had just eaten before leaving the house, which was a bad idea, all my blood was still diverted to my digestive system and my heart had to work extra hard to keep me going. After a rest, I spent the next hour pootling up and down the slow lane doing breast stroke.

Afterwards I stank of Chlorine and had to shower. My body didn’t hurt too much (not like after the running). My shoulders are a bit tense today, but that’s about it. I will be going again.

Shares

Today I got a call from my Dad. My Dad is the MD of a small company he started about 15 years ago. They make database software for hospitals. Things have been fairly hard in that time, he’s never become rich, but he’s not lost the company either and it has paid his salary for all that time. Recently he’s not enjoying it very much and has been talking about moving on. So it was a pleasant surprise to hear today that a much larger company has made an offer to buy his company.

It’s a serious offer. Apparently the valuation is spot on and also they want to complete the transaction fairly quickly. I am a shareholder in my Dad’s company. When it was founded, he gave 1,000 shares each to me, my two sisters and other family members. He was actually phoning me because as a shareholder I have to be informed and I have to sign some stuff. My shares will be moderately valuable if all goes well, but I’m more happy for him. He’s worked very hard to keep the company working and now it’s got to the point of success, where he can claim back his effort. It’s strange that the measure of success should be the ability to get out and I think he’s sad to see the end on one level. Still, he’s fifty now and it sounds like this path suits the way his life is going very well. Although he will be an employee of the purchasing company for a while, in a year’s time he will be free to do whatever he wants.