On Statistics and Suspicions.

Being a veritable anorak when it comes to statistics, I quite like working out how long it’s been since I had an email from a person. The priestess, for example, hasn’t sent me an email for six weeks. It’s exactly six weeks to the day since the priestess communicated with me. (Seems I’ve also developed a penchant for saying the same thing twice using slightly different words.) This does contain a grain of minor significance, however (unlike some statistics), because it seems eminently possible to me that the priestess might never darken my doorstep with her brightness ever again. And that statement makes more sense than you might think on first reading it.

It’s also just about 2½ years since I last visited Ms Medeea, my lovely dentist. This is also of some minor significance because I lost a piece of filling from one of my teeth earlier in the week and now have a grand total of three cavities (one of which was aching in the wind this morning.) I had no cavities the last time I went to the dentist, which causes me to worry that Ms Medeea might not recognise me, and that would be a shame because she’s one of the nicest people I know. So why don’t I pay a visit to my dentist, you might ask. Because…

1. The rate of Covid infections is currently at record levels, and I harbour a vague suspicion that dental surgeries might be a hotbed of Covid infection.

2. Given the progress of my life over the past four years, I’ve become massively reluctant to submit to the attention of any more clinicians. (There’s something I should really see a doctor about, but I’ve had enough. Being in thrall to statistics is a more peaceful – and mostly less painful – pursuit.)