Sunday 19th November 2006

Day three at Stanley Camp. If you have been reading the last couple of entries you will know I have gone on a camping expedition in my own flat, living like Ray Mears and only using my natural environment for sustenance. But a few days of living wild like this does have it’s health implications and today I got toothache. It’s only expected if you are in such a harsh environment for an extended period of time.

For several years I was having problems with one of my molar teeth down at the back and it had gone a bit rotten. Eventually I went to the dentist and they killed the root and whatnot which meant it didn’t hurt anymore but said I’d need to get it removed. The trouble was, getting it out was going to be tricky according to the dentist and I’d have to take a week or so off whilst the gum heeled. I wasn’t worried about the operation or discomfort because I am like Ray Mears but it was always going to be inconvenient not being able to talk properly for a week all for the advantage of having a big hole near the back of my mouth and seeing as I could neither really see the bad tooth, or feel it, naturally I never had this done.

But then the tooth itself started to disintegrate and break up a bit over the following couple of years. I quite enjoyed wobbling loose bits with my tongue and one day not too long ago a nice big bit (almost the whole of one side of the tooth) came off as I teased it with my fingers, which felt a bit odd. Now there’s only a shard of tooth down one side and nothing on the other side, but seeing as the root is dead, it doesn’t hurt.

I should have gone to the dentist then to get this all cleared up but having a look at the now battle-blasted tooth (not much of which appears above the gum, then there’s sort of a tooth crater) I realised that if it was going to be difficult and uncomfortable to remove back then, it would be impossible to remove cleanly now and so I never bothered. But today it started to hurt. Curse me and my habit of putting things off and Stanley Camp for reminding me of my stupidity.

I had some aspirins in the cupboard and a couple of these sorted it out but the throbbing pain was back come bedtime and I conceded that I would have to go to the dentist in the week. But I suppose that’s just one of the trials of camping, you never know what medical issues you are going to have to deal with.

My beard is coming on quite nicely, and seeing as I’ve not changed my clothes since Thursday my aroma is now quite suited to the wild man lifestyle too. I’m not very good at growing a beard, being both fair and a bit rubbish, but having not had a shave since Thursday morning it’s now substantial enough to change my appearance and make me look a bit like Tom Hanks in that film that was supposed to be like Robinson Crusoe but wasn’t because it was shit. Cast Away, that was it. Anyway he was laughing in that because he had sun, sea, sand, lots of fruit, and a football for a mate in his situation. I have no sea, no sand, no sun, no fruit, no football with a human face drawn on it… I am going back to basics in a big way. I’ve only got sixty TV channels, the internet, books and a pile of DVDs for company. He didn’t know he was born, Hanks.

The food situation is a bit desperate now, I’m down to yoghurt and cream crackers and nothing to drink but tap water but tomorrow this harrowing ordeal comes to a close and I will have a shave, wash, get dressed, and walk the streets with my fellow man as if I am one of them. But I am not. I am a converted warehouse-based aborigine.

Still enjoying I’m A Celebrity… Get Me Out Of Here. It’s better that Big Brother, definitely, because it’s funny. Although I did some research on the internet about where it’s filmed and it’s not a jungle at all… it’s an old banana plantation near Dungay in New South Wales, not far from a luxury hotel. The TV cheats. They’ll never know the meaning of being truly cut off… not like me.

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