I hadn’t ever considered how one can develop a habit over time without even fully realising it.

It was Saturday morning and I had set aside the day to do something extremely boring and at the same time necessary – clear out the garage and the loft. I was moving house in a month and I needed to de-clutter my life.

I woke early, had a coffee and a croissant and got to work straight away. I wasn’t planning to shower until the work was all done, and I pulled on my oldest jeans and shirt, planning to throw them in the bin when my work was done.

I spent a morning sorting through boxes in the loft – lots of dust and cobwebs, and took a trip down memory lane. I found a great number of books I didn’t even realise I still owned, and clothes, lots of clothes.

Two hours in the early afternoon completed my work, the garage was sorted out and I was ready for a cup of tea and a shower.

I had friends coming round for dinner and at 2.45 pm I suddenly realised that I needed to go the butcher and collect the meat I had ordered. I wanted to shower but the butcher closed at 4 pm on a Saturday, so I decided to go to the butcher first, looking extremely scruffy. I would be back from the butcher in forty five minutes.

Back to those habits we can develop. I was driving back from the butcher, feeling a little ashamed for going out in public looking so unkempt. I had developed a habit of grinding my teeth. It was probably stress related, I was a barrister, very busy, and my case load was becoming difficult to handle. I realised as I drove along that one of my teeth in the bottom row, near the front had become a little loose. I tried wiggling it with the tooth above it, and to my horror it came away, actually came out of its place.

I was a little shocked, to say the least. I quickly pulled the car over to the side of the road and pulled down the vanity mirror. It was as bad as I suspected. The tooth was still attached, but barely, and there was blood, not a huge amount but enough to be a little frightening.

After a few minutes of panic I pulled myself together. I had heard that a tooth can be “put back” in the gum if a dentist can be found quickly. I was only a five minute drive from my dental surgery. My dentist was one of the best in the city, Dr Schneider, who happened to be the sister of a colleague. I had been to her twice in the past five years.

I drove directly to the surgery and found a parking space. I looked in the vanity mirror, I was a mess, but there was nothing for it, it was Saturday afternoon and every dental surgery in the city would be closing for the weekend in the next hour or so. I had the feeling that if I didn’t see a dentist urgently, probably there would be little anyone could do for my poor tooth.

As I stepped out of the car I noticed Dr Schneider getting out of her car. I rushed over to her and spoke to her, or at least tried to speak to her. With blood and everything else in my mouth, the words that came out were completely unrecognisable as English. It didn’t help that I had my hand over my mouth.

Dr Schneider didn’t hesitate, she rushed away as fast as her legs could carry her, through the front entrance to her surgery.

I caught a glimpse of a reflection of myself in the car window beside me and a slow realisation dawned on me. I looked terrible. More than terrible. My hair was tied back in a pony tail and was full of dust and cobwebs. I was wearing clothes that should have been thrown away years earlier, and they weren’t clean after my day in the loft and the garage.

On top of that there was blood in the corner of my mouth and I was speaking some unintelligible language. I looked like a homeless person, and I sounded like I was drunk or drugged. I hesitated for several minutes. Leaning against my car, I didn’t know what to do.

I eventually decided that if I went into reception I would be able to explain my predicament.

I walked into reception, feeling more than a little shaky and emotional. The receptionist actually looked frightened when I walked in. I tried to smile and tried to speak, but my words came out as a slurred gurgle. The receptionist stood up and walked to the door.

“Please leave now, I have called the police”

I could see Dr Schneider watching through a set of glass doors, with several other concerned looking dentists.

Tears started to come into my eyes, and as my vision started to blur I noticed a blue flashing light reflected in the glass doors. I turned around just as two large policemen walked into reception.

They started asking questions, politely but firmly. I tried to speak with them but, with a tooth hanging on by a thread, and all the other things going on, I seemed to be speaking Swahili. They took me, one by each arm towards the exit. I managed to say one word clearly.

“Wait!”

They hesitated and I quickly took the opportunity to open the credit card wallet clutched in my hand. I took out one of my business cards and gave it to the more sympathetic looking policeman.

“Senior Counsel, Central Chambers?”

“You want us to call a lawyer for you?”

This was becoming more like a game of charades every second. I shook my head and pointed at myself.

“You are a barrister?”

I nodded, relieved, and pointed at my mouth, and managed to say another word clearly;

“Tooof”

I could see that the policemen and the receptionist had started to understand. The receptionist motioned to Dr Schneider to come to reception and the policeman gave her my card, and explained for me that I seemed to have a dental problem.

Dr Schneider read the card, made the connections in her mind and realised that I was one of her patients. She only half recognised me, mainly due to my appearance. She smiled an embarrassed smile.

“I am so, so sorry, I didn’t recognise you, we have been having problems recently with some…..”

She left the sentence unfinished.

“Please, I can see you right now. Let’s take a look at your tooth”.

The police left and I was safely ensconced in the dentist’s chair.

“When did this happen?”

I managed to motion “thirty minutes” with my fingers.

Dr Schneider smiled;

“Don’t worry, we can fix this, it will be expensive, but we can put your tooth back in its spot”

When Dr Schneider was finished I had a normal smile again, and I could speak.

She apologised profusely, so did the receptionist. I apologised for being in such a mess, explained about the loft and the dust and the lack of make-up, and the last minute dash to the butcher and then my tooth problem.

As I drove home I reflected on my traumatic experience – now I knew how people were treated if they looked like they were from a marginalised part of society – the poor, homeless people, people with alcohol or drug issues.

That was a profound learning experience. I also learned two less profound things;

Firstly, don’t leave the house looking like a wreck. You never know who you’ll meet.

Secondly, as Dr Schneider said as I left her office; don’t grind your teeth!