It's a crowned tooth, see, which has no root left, and I always wondered why my crowns would periodically hurt as if they were still alive. Put it down to kisetsu no kawarime ergh the noted oddities of the seasonal shift into spring or out of summer. November may be Month of Death wherever I've lived but it's lung-death, not the other kind. So why do my fake teeth hurt me now?
He: (as I sit down) Please grind your teeth.
Me: I'd rather not. (Upper right canine is going Touch me there and I shall scream.)
He: No, I said, *do* you grind your teeth?
He: OK, let's see this tooth.
(I open mouth)
Oh. Yes, you grind your teeth.
Which evidently inflames the surrounding gum. So maybe tomorrow I'll go get me some naproxen and take it with all deliberate speed. It's a case of 'Oh God cure my poor ouchy tooth but not yet': since nothing dissuades from snacking and chocolate like a tooth that won't bear pressure, and nothing dissuades from alcohol like anti-inflammatories, and I'm determined to lose the two kilos that Thanksgiving indulgence put on me last month.
Meanwhile I realize that the proper person to turn up to tell a hearty yarn to Dan and Una is Jack Aubrey, but that's a double gainer I'm not going to even try. Pasticheing Kipling's narrative style is possible but pasticheing O'Brian's conversational style inside that is not, or not for me.