Oh, no...

And it just has got worse.

Himself and I both woke up at 5.30am and he said, 'The crown's come out, and I must have swallowed it in my sleep.'

The dentist only put it back in yesterday....

And he said, 'I'll have to cancel the rehearsal. I can't play without the tooth.' (It's all to do with the embouchure, which I won't go into now but it's long and complicated, takes months to get the embouchure right in order to play.)

My mind started racing, thinking about what we could do. 'Ring the dentist,' I said. 'See if they can put it back in again.'

'They can't,' he said, his voice flat with weary disappointment. 'They have to order a bit of tooth from the dental technician before they can put it in.'

I foresaw weeks of no rehearsals. Of the gig in August being cancelled. Of Himself becoming not only bitterly disappointed, but deeply depressed. He lives for his jazz - having relinquished boating he needs another love in his life (apart from me and Moll of course).

'They'll have that on file,' I said. 'If you ask today perhaps they can get it for next week.' Anything to save missing another rehearsal.

So that's the plan. I could feel the heavy disappointment radiating from his body, but we will ring the dentist at 9am.

If they can't do anything soon, I have a Plan B. See if the fearfully expensive but very good private dentist I had to go do will be able to see him. It'll cost me, but it'll be worth it. And I know he'd do the same for me.