How 2026 kicked us in the teeth…

This first dispatch of 2026 has been slow in arriving, which feels entirely appropriate given how the year itself burst onto the scene. Less a fresh start, more kick in the teeth before we’d even finished the Christmas leftovers.

I am not a believer in New Year’s resolutions. Why begin a shiny new year with unrealistic goals, other than to enjoy the familiar comfort of inevitable failure? That said, we have kicked off January with some weight loss — entirely accidental, joyless, and without the influence of Ozempic. 

We have both undergone substantive dental procedures involving extractions, root canals, crowns, and bridges. Mine followed an abscess I had been optimistically self‑treating with antibiotics for months (what could possibly go wrong), and the husband’s was the result of a boating accident that destroyed most of his front upper teeth. Painful. Expensive. Definitely not pretty.

The upside? Living on mushy food has trimmed the waistlines. The downside? It has also trimmed a very noticeable chunk out of our savings. None of this dental extravaganza was insured, which serves as a cautionary tale about keeping insurance premiums down by excluding outpatient services. On the plus side, we should break even again by about October – assuming no other accidents or injuries.

For any retirees contemplating a move overseas, please note: international medical insurance is your biggest monthly outgoing after rent. Possibly after wine. Speaking of which, my liver has enjoyed a rare holiday. Between pain, strong medication, and an overwhelming desire not to be seen in public, alcohol consumption has plummeted. As a result, so has our overall expenditure.

Sleep deprivation has been another highlight of the month, and not — surprisingly — dental‑related. Fireworks are a massive thing here, and New Year celebrations carried on until mid‑January because the long school summer holidays didn’t end until the 12th. Partying means fireworks, and there are absolutely no restrictions on decibels or quantity that can be purchased. Supermarkets sell what appear to be professional‑grade pyrotechnics; some are actually labelled “bombs”. It is astonishing that nobody is routinely injured on the beaches at night.

Our little dog, however, has not taken this well. Terrified by nights of bombs and rockets, she refused to go outside after dark. This meant she did need to go out around 3am, requiring her dutiful humans to escort her around the block like exhausted parents of a newborn. Every night. For weeks.

As if to round things off properly, the month concluded with a hair disaster. So bad there are currently no photos of me on any social media platform. Overlong, split ends and grown‑out highlights needed decisive action. What I did not expect was a short, layered bob approximately four to five inches shorter than requested and bearing no resemblance whatsoever to the photo I brought along. I have been going to the same hairdresser for over three years. What, exactly, was he thinking?

So, here’s to February with cautious optimism. We will both have our new teeth, Lola is now going out at 10pm and we are off on a food and wine trip to Cape Town with our buddies. I can always wear a hat.