My tongue still hasn't gotten used to the place where one of my lower front teeth used to be. It is often found exploring the gap, and minding it very much.
Around the time Viking was landing on Mars I toppled out of a tree and twirled through my own space, landing amidst a circle of surprised friends. Besides knocking the stuffing out of me, this flight resulted in a broken tooth and eardrum. My ear healed, and my tooth was later capped.
Fast forward 30 years. The cap loses the plot and is eventually yanked, root and all, leaving prime oral real estate vacant while I consider my options. A bridge doesn't appeal due to the piers which must be destroyed to anchor it, and a denture leaves my mouth feeling filled with plast
ick. That leaves an impĀ£ant. I ponder British pricing structures, consider dental tourism to Eastern Europe and beyond (
Sri Lanka is even mooted), and finally decide not to decide.
Still climb trees.