When I was at primary school my parents gave me sixpence a day for sweets. I could buy four chews for a penny, any number of gobstoppers and aniseed balls, licorice sticks, sherbet dib dabs, flying saucers and so much more. We also had a sweet tin at home and numerous treats from doting grandparents. I only really stopped eating sweets during the first major covid lockdown. I was frightened because the legacy of my childhood and adult love affair with sweets (I swoon over sour sticks and sour jellies) is regular and very expensive and extensive dental treatment. During lockdown dentists shut up shop. I was terrified.

After a really lovely visit with mum this morning I arrived home in time to feed the lamb and then drive to the dentist in St Neots for an emergency extraction. Ouch. He told to go home and put my feet up until the bleeding subsides. Bed seems like the best option and J will feed the lamb later and put all the other animals to bed.