Just had my damn checkup about two weeks ago, and, as often happens, I lost a filling only a few days later. Feck.
I seem to get a new dentist nearly every time I go, these days, and I don't care for the latest one at all. He's one of those really sadistic 'scalers', and I feared the worst. It was quite painless, though, and I schlepped on to Tate Britain to see the little exhibit of Blake's solo show, and generally mooch for a while. It was refreshingly cool last night, and early this morning, so I'd hoped the weatherman was wrong, but no, it's bloody hot again, and the heater on the bus is still on!
helenraven came round last night to watch GHOST WRITER a truly deranged little item featuring Alan Cumming at his most OTT torturing David Boreanaz, who spent most of the film seminude and decked with Christmas lights. Brill.