My own little tooth fairy
Claira Jo
It was March 2008 and everything had been going relatively well, career wise. I had new found hope for my writing, I'd not long taken on the position of Regional Advisor for SCBWI Scotland and I'd soon be heading off to the Bologna conference. Putting aside the daily strife of motherhood, writing, teaching my son at home and running a household, only two things had me concerned at this point.
The first was that I didn't have anyone to look after my new baby budgie whilst I was away, and the second was that my new pair of 'must-have' boots typically held my feet to ransom while simultaneously murdering them on a daily basis. Still, needs must and I went ahead with my life, torturing my bloodstained feet and a pre-arranged meeting.
It was set for ten o'clock on one apparently ordinary Thursday morning and I was so looking forward to it as well. I'd just been there for the first time three days ago meeting the person that'd recommended the quaint little café to me. However, fate intervened two days before when one of my teeth fell out thanks to a rock hard pizza crust.
The only time the dentist could see me was Thursday at ten am, so I re-arranged my original meeting for noon instead. Both my feet and I were glad of the rest, so I wore trainers that morning. The second I left the dentist; I crossed the road to the bus stop, which is where I committed homicidal fashion to my feet again. Knowing I'd have to get two buses in order to reach The High Street, with no idea of the bus timetable, or how long it would take me and my poor feet to get there, I hopped onto the first bus and headed towards my second bus at Abbey Hill.
It seemed to take ages, and if The Storytelling Centre hadn't been so far away, I would've changed back into my trainers and chanced walking there. Anyway, eventually my bus did come and when I arrived at my destination, I realised I had no money. So with aching feet, but wonderful new suede boots, I traipsed up the street to the bank. Still, I had time to spare and if I'd been back home, I'd be sunbathing in the garden whilst soaking my tootsies instead. Nevertheless, I sat in the café resting my feet while waiting for my appointment to turn up. T'was then whilst sipping a well-earned coffee, someone caught my eye. I knew the face and definitely knew the name, so I bravely stood up and wobbled over for a closer look. It was none other than a fellow SCBWI Scotland member reading from her new book. She was being bombarded with kids, so we swapped numbers and I went back my original meeting leaving her to it.
On a high with how well the two meetings went, despite my feet, I waited at the bus stop outside. I asked the lady in front of me if a number thirty-five was due. We then got talking and the conversation turned to pets. She told me about a pet shop she goes to, so I pleaded with my feet and popped in on my way back home. On picking something up for my budgie, I happened to mention to the owner that I'd found a wonderful pet store, all I need to find now is a great sitter. He told me he did pet boarding and I was over the moon.
I rushed home excited like a silly schoolgirl, well, the best I could anyway, at how great the day had gone. I hung up my coat and fed my budgie her treat. My mobile phone beeped telling me I'd missed a call. I checked it and while waiting for it to retrieve, I received an email from the lady I'd swapped numbers with earlier. Her email said she'd tried to phone me to invite me and still does to the book launch event later on that night at the same venue.
