Pain killer

Finally my tooth is starting to feel more like it's old self. It's taken all week, stuffing myself full of a mixture of Panadol Extra, Ibuprofen (or some drug with 'fen' at the end and bright pink, supplied by Fiona. Thank you. It would seem impossible to gain anything stronger than Panadol over here without a trip to the doctors. Even my dentist only gave me Nurofen, stating 'this will sort out the pain'. Well, no it won't, and didn't) and purple antibiotics. My tooth may have appreciated this (somewhat belatedly) but my stomach certainly hasn't. Grumbling and moping about everytime I present it with food. I almost was unable to eat.... All my dinner.
I'm sitting on the number 14 bus (in a lot of traffic), trying to get to Dhoby Ghaut to meet a friend. I think I'm going to be late. I shouldn't be surprised at the traffic as, of course, there are roadworks involved. Judging by the aggressive tactics, Captain bus driver is employing, I'm not the only one whose late! It's the first time I've taken this bus and frankly I have no idea where I am. Still all part of the adventure. I'll know where I am when I get there. Assuming, of course, that I get my nose out of my mobile and stop blogging. Look up. No still don't recognise it. Handily I've just had a text from Claire who I'm meeting. Sure is also stuck in traffic. Probably just behind me. But she has no aircon! This probably means she's paying less for her journey as the bus tariffs seem to not only depend on the length of journey but also the luxuriousness of your ride (which is all relative by the way). Look up. Am I on the right bus here? Ah, here's my stop. Quick!

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