Remembering Kirsty

Last week a routine visit to the dentist revealed holes in two of my back teeth, one of them worryingly large. The dentist said she would try to fill it but that there was only about a fifty-fifty chance it would work, and muttered darkly about root canal procedures.

I returned a few days later for the drilling and filling to be performed. Dora had reminded me to breathe from my abdomen to keep the energy as low as possible in my body. I did so, and was largely able just to observe any discomfort, not react to it. This worked so well that after a few minutes, my main problem was simply boredom. I found myself pondering how fortunate I was to be able to access modern dentistry carried out by a first-rate practitioner. That is one of things that I expect to miss the most if things start to fall apart in the decades to come.

As the dentist and her assistant were about to get to work, what should come on the radio but "Fairytale of New York" by Shane MacGowan and Kirsty MacColl. I had heard MacGowan perform with the Pogues fifteen years before, and remember his facial appearance rather more clearly than the music. I commented that there was someone with teeth much worse even than mine, but to my surprise, neither of these dental specialists knew what I was talking about. If you don't either, have a look at these "before and after" pictures -- it seems he's finally got them sorted.

But it's the other member of the duo, Kirsty MacColl, that I really want to write about here. I never heard her perform, but have much enjoyed listening to her soulful, moving and often very funny songs ever since Dora introduced me to them ten years ago, not long before Kirsty was tragically killed. When I returned home from the dentist, I saw on the BBC news web site that the campaign mounted by her friends and family to have her death properly investigated had been wound up.

There can be no more heroic way to leave this life than to save someone else's by doing so, and it looks as though that is exactly what Kirsty MacColl did: rushing to push her son out of the way of a fast-moving speedboat, which then smashed into her. I have sometimes wondered whether I would be capable of that kind of sacrifice for The Bean if a similar situation arose. There is no way to know, but I can only imagine the whole thing happened so fast for Kirsty that she had no time to assess the risks to herself and her son and make any kind of conscious decision. Her body would have acted before her mind could even start to think. And a reaction like that can only be the result of an ongoing attitude of heart. Very often, our decision is made before we become aware of any need for making one, and when that happens, which way it goes depends on how we have chosen to shape our souls over the years.

On a more mundane note, three days on, I am happy to report that my teeth appear to be in good shape, and I am determined to take better care of them, as I trust Shane MacGowan will also be doing with his.