The Matter of Cash and Cashews.

To add further consternation to a slightly troubled and expletive-ridden day, the shop from which I buy my cashew nuts didn’t have any of the raw or black pepper variety; they only had honey roasted. I decided that honey roasted cashews are better than no cashews, so I bought a pack.

I don’t like them. The first problem is that the taste of honey completely obliterates the subtler cashew taste, so I really don’t see the point. The second problem is that they’re hard and keep breaking tiny fragments off the filling in a rear molar that ideally needs a crown. OK, the fragments might only be the size of a grain of sand, but it still leaves the filling feeling sharp and uncomfortable.

So, what to do? Crowns cost £219 apiece even on the NHS, and I ain’t rich. The alternative is to get the cashews somewhere else, but they’re dearer everywhere else. So now I have to work out how many years it would take for the having of a crown to be more cost-effective than buying dearer cashews, and am I likely to be dead by then?

Or stop eating cashews.

Isn’t life bloody complicated?