about writing and life and God

Season of mists

on October 22, 2012

‘Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness’ (John Keats: Ode to Autumn)

Well, we’ve certainly got it misty in this part of England. I’d the headlights and the foglights on as I drove up to the next town for my six-month dental check.

I’m very fussy about dentists. I don’t do unnecessary pain. I also don’t like unnecessary fillings, extractions, or generally unpleasant procedures. This means that a gentle-handed dentist with a low-intervention/prevention is better than intervention approach is worth his weight in gold to me. And I am greatly blessed to have found one such paragon. As a result I do not mind hauling myself along misty country roads with the headlights and foglights blazing at some unearthly hour in the morning (which means any time before midday) to keep my appointment.

His mild-voiced ‘Everything seems to be fine’ is akin to the ‘Well done, good and faithful servant’ that I most covet on the eternal plane. These words have several things in common:

a) I feel I don’t deserve it (Anyone remember the brilliant Pam Ayres‘ poem I wish I’d looked after me teeth’?)

b) I always fear the worst (fillings!)

and c) I’m always surprised to be sent away with a blessing instead.

I paid up, chatted with the nice receptionist, and got out my diary to make the next appointment.


Way into next year!

When it will be spring,and sunshiny, and there will be daffodils and Easter eggs and short sleeves and…

When I got outside, it was still grey and misty and autumn, but my diary has a date for spring, and I am reminded that round the next corner something lovely waits.

Sometimes it takes us a while to get there. But get there we will!


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