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  • Alan Martin

I’ve always had gappy teeth. As a child it was, I think, quite endearing, but it became less so in my teens. I remember having a consultation for braces at the age of 14, but they would take a whole year, and when you’re 14 a year feels like it could easily be rounded up to ‘forever’. After this time, the dentist said, my teeth might just drift back anyway, so I decided not to bother.


That decision is one that adult Alan has resented on and off for 20 years. Looking back through my Instagram account, I’m greeted with plenty of smiling pictures, but a gap between the front teeth that you could park a truck in. Or at least a Micro Machines sized version.


That’s why with the freelance career going well*, I finally decided to spend big on Invisalign. For those unaware, Invisalign are clear retainers that are custom moulded to your teeth. You change them every couple of weeks, and each one drags your teeth a little bit closer to the perfect smile, week by week.


There are a number of advantages over conventional braces, but invisibility is the main one – hence the name. They’re transparent so it’s not clear you’re wearing anything from a distance, though they do have a weird sheen when you get up close. Here I am wearing them, so you can play a game of ‘spot the difference’:

It’s definitely working. I’m allowed to take them off for up to two hours a day, during which time I’m expected to do all my eating and (non-water) drinking. I’m getting things stuck between my front teeth for the first time in my life, which is nice proof that my teeth are actually moving and I’m not just fooling myself into thinking they are.


However, that discretion and effectiveness comes at a pretty high price: between £2,500 an £6,000 depending on how bad your teeth are. My dentist is actually at the competitively priced end, despite being award winning, so for me it’s £225 a month for 13 months – or £2,925 if you don’t have a calculator handy. Expensive, but nowhere near as pricey as I thought it might be.


But anyway, for anyone considering taking the Invisalign plunge, here are some things that you might not know going in:


You can get a single set, but it won’t save you much money


Given my troublesome teeth are on the top layer, I figured I’d only need one tray. That was an option, it turned out, but it wouldn’t have saved much money – only around two months, or £450. On top of that, the results would be worse, as the two sets wouldn’t line up as neatly. I figured if I’m spending a few thousand on this, there’s not much point of quibbling over £450.


Side note: try and get somewhere that will cap costs like mine has. Sometimes teeth are stubborn and refuse to move, and that means you might need more trays than originally estimated. If that’s the case with me, I won’t pay more than the £2,925 I’ve already agreed to spend, no matter how long it takes.


The trays aren’t painful, but they can be annoying


The best way I can describe wearing Invisalign for 22 hours a day is a feeling of a constant pressure on your teeth. This is far more obvious when you change to a new set of smaller trays, so the best advice is to put fresh sets in last thing at night alongside an Ibuprofen – that should make any discomfort vanish by the morning.


You might get a lisp at first


Your tongue (or at least mine – bit presumptuous of me to make assumptions about your tongue) is very used to the shape of the mouth, and putting plastic inside it disrupts things. As such, you may find that your speech is affected.


My speech is basically fine now, but I was advised to talk a lot to colleagues in the first week to try and grow used to my new life. As a freelancer, that proved difficult as my only colleagues are two cats.


Alcohol can be problematic


You know I said you can only take the trays out for two hours a day, and that’s supposed to involve all your eating and drinking time? Yeah, that includes alcohol: because the trays are transparent, anything but water can stain them making your teeth look awful. Coffee and red wine are especially bad for this.


I’ve found that using a straw kind of gets around the problem, but it’s a bit of a cheat and makes you look very weird. Before the Covid-19 lockdown, I was carrying a metal straw into every pub, which makes it look like I’ve mistaken pints of cider for milkshake.


You might lose weight


This isn’t just because drinking booze is an almighty pain, either. Taking the trays out and putting them back in is annoying: first you have to dig them off with your nails, then you need to carefully store them away in the carry case. Once done eating, you have to rinse the trays, clean your teeth and squeeze them back on again.


If you’re a regular snacker, this might just stop you.


So there you are. If you’re tempted and have any questions about Invisalign, do feel free to get in touch. I’m six trays down, and am due to pick up the next three sets on Thursday. I’ll be done in January 2021.


*A position that has been revised in the age of Covid 19 with freelance budgets being slashed everywhere. Fortunately I was overpaying into my tax account for some time, so was able to pay myself a bonus on 6 April… which will mostly be spent on funding the remaining nine months of Invisalign.


So hey, if you want to commission me to make those payments a bit easier to swallow, you know how to reach me.



  • Alan Martin

Windows Ten(t)

Note: This post originally appeared on The Inquirer, which heartbreakingly closed in December 2019, losing a huge amount of my best work in the process. Given it's all been scrubbed from the internet - aside from on the all-seeing eye of the Way Back Machine - there doesn't seem much harm in reposting this feature here for posterity.


THIS ISN’T A COLUMN I ever planned on writing. I’ve never had the grand dream of making my computer look like a ski lodge. And yet, here I am writing it, because my laptop now has more of a rustic vibe to it than any technology should have in 2019.


My Microsoft Surface Laptop 2 is now covered in wood paneling. And y’know what? I like it. Maybe this is the first step on a journey that ends with me moving to a cabin decked out with a bear skin rug and hunting trophies. If that happens you have permission to track me down and kill me. Seriously: use this post as mitigation if it goes to trial. You have my blessing.

Anyway, that’s the destination – the wooden laptop, not my eventual murder. How did I get there?

The Surface Laptop in happier times. The proximity of the world's most underwhelming Eggs Benedict was an early warning sign, to be fair.


I blame Microsoft. And Plex. Microsoft, Plex and a curry sauce, in that order. Every ingredient in this sad story, except me, naturally. It doesn’t take a genius to join the dots between these, but I’ll spell it out for you anyway. Curry sauce has a tendency to spit when heated, and the Surface has a beautiful, but wholly impractical, alcantara cover.


I can’t stay mad at the curry – it was a solid example of the paneer korma genre – but it left some unsightly yellow dots across the fabric, like my Surface laptop was cosplaying as Spotty Man from SuperTed, but got the detail slightly wrong.


If you ever find yourself in this situation, don’t do what I did next: don’t try and scrub it out with soap and water, as you’ll replace that faint yellow dotting with a horrible brown patch instead.

The kind of brown patch that will have your colleagues wondering if freelance life is treating you so badly that you can't afford to wash your hands any more.


Microsoft would tell you that Surface care is easy for even the dirtiest of grubster. The official guidance is to clean the Alcantara "with a mild soap and water solution" within 30 minutes to "prevent any stains from setting." Fair enough, I didn't notice the dotting for a day, but the number of people with stained Surfaces on Reddit suggests I'm not the only person to find the computer not hugely practical for cleaning. I tried some fancy Alcantara cleaning products aimed at luxury car interiors. I tried diluted bleach. I tried nail polish remover. Nada.


You would have thought that Microsoft would see this coming and make the fabric easy to replace. They don't. In fact, iFixIt gave the Surface Laptop and its sequel an impressively bad 0/10 for repairability, calling it a "glue-filled monstrosity" that "literally can't be opened without destroying it."

So what's a little more glue? I began to research Surface Laptop covers, because using it in public was beginning to make me sad, as I imagined everyone nearby judging by gross palms. But the curse of Alcantara is just beginning: most places I found that sold covers would only cover up the top and bottom of the laptop, presumably because fabric repels adhesive.


Step forward the geniuses at ToastMade: a company that sprung into life via Kickstarter, narrowly clearing its target by just $368 in 2012. After some searching, it became clear that the company would bury my curry stain beneath a thin veneer of wood, and I got in touch.

The business specialises in wood and leather covers for devices. Actual wood, cut ridiculously thin, so as not to add extra heft. Despite this, its environmental credentials are pretty solid, running on 100 per cent renewable energy, and only using "responsibly grown, rainforest friendly wood and bamboo." Obviously shipping a laptop cover from Oregon to Mitcham isn't a great boon for the planet, but that's on me, not Toast.


A couple of weeks after making contact, my cover arrived, and I set to work affixing it, piece by piece, to the sullied Surface. It came in 10 pieces to cover almost every bit of exposed metal. The curved corner pieces are notched, so they bend easily without looking too angular.

Each piece has been laser cut to exactly fit the laptop or phone you order for, so there's no risk of getting things wrong. As somebody who has never, ever put on a screen protector without an unsightly bubble ruining my day, the Toast process was pretty painless. I only lined up one piece slightly incorrectly - the lid - and it exposes a tiny bit of metal at the back. But considering the metal grill behind it needs to be open anyway, it's hardly the end of the world.

It was all done within about 20 minutes, and despite my initial doubts, I really like it. So have most others who have seen it. Not everyone though:

Maybe public reactions are best saved for another day, but I can tell you one thing: I'd rather be judged as a hipster wazzock than somebody who doesn't understand why they put soap next to sinks.


Though I guess the two aren't mutually exclusive, if history repeats itself. No more Surface Laptop in the kitchen. µ

  • Alan Martin

My friend Duncan does an email newsletter called “Beginnings”. It’s about starting new things, and his most recent one was about his experience learning to run at the age of 35.


I can empathise with this, because I made the same journey myself at the age of 28. I did this as someone who found himself newly single and inclined to make the best possible impression on London’s largely apathetic dating scene. I wasn’t very good at it (running, rather than dating, though if the glove fits…) but with daily jogs and a tightly-controlled diet I lost three stone in three months, so I must have been doing something right.


As my life has evened out again, more of that weight than I would like has returned, but the running has stuck with me. I’m a regular at parkrun, where I have – at the time of writing – completed 181 events since 2014. Each course is measured to be 5km, which means I’ve covered 905km, or around 562 miles on race days, which obviously doesn’t include the time spent training or doing non-parkrun events. In that time, I’ve also run four 10k races, for example.

At this point, I want to make two things very clear:


1) I’m not very good. My mean average for a 5k is probably around 26:30, though after a couple of month’s heavy training I did hit a golden era of sub-25-minute times, with a PB of 24:11.


2) I still don’t really like running very much. It’s uncomfortable and frequently demoralising – especially in summer.


But I keep doing it, and for that I have to thank parkrun: a series of free, timed 5k races every Saturday morning around the world. And for parkrun, I have writing to thank.


Back in 2013, I was writing news and editing long-form content for the hiking and running shoe brand Merrell. Every day I was editing articles written by incredible human beings running ultramarathons and engaging in other superhuman feats. It was impressive, but alienating: I wanted to read about people like me – the kind of people for whom lacing up and not giving up half way around was half the battle. So I pitched just that as a weekly column and got it.


The site is no longer live, so I can’t link to it, but as I write all my stuff on Google Docs, I have all of the copy saved. It begins like this:


“If the incredible men and women writing about their feats of endurance are rightly called Merrell Alphas, I’m a Merrell Gamma at best. In fact, me writing about running is a bit like a goldfish penning a column on castles: sure, he may have seen a replica of one in his bowl, but he’s probably still not best placed to write a piece about Neuschwanstein.”


...and so it continued. But I needed material for a weekly piece, so I decided training for a race would be the perfect thing. I did Couch to 5K training and eventually made my debut at Wimbledon parkrun on November 1 2014 with a not unrespectable time of 26:21.


Anyway, inspired by Duncan’s lovely email, I thought I’d offer my own tips for newbie runners, based on my seven-year journey to becoming a mediocre runner.


You’re not as fast as you think you are


This sounds a bit patronising, but it’s not meant to be. People starting out tend to go too fast, and then beat themselves up when they inevitably have to stop two minutes later. Drop your pace. Then drop it again. Endurance first, speed later.


Get the right shoes


I get why people may not want to drop £70-£120 on a pair of running shoes when the hobby may not last the week, but running in cheap trainers almost guarantees you’ll have a dreadful time and sore knees.


Ideally, you’ll get your gait assessed too: turns out I run slightly inwards, so needed shoes with banking on the sides so my knees wouldn’t hurt. I found this out in the Asics Store in London by running on a treadmill for 30 seconds while the shop assistant watched. (I had to sign a piece of paper saying it was my fault if I died during said test. If that were a risk, it’s probably safe to assume I’d have had bigger problems than the suitability of footwear to contend with.)


Distractions are important


Some of my running friends refuse to use headphones. I personally think they’re essential because running is a so damned boring. For shorter runs, music is good for maintaining a beat, but for longer advenrtures where you’re taking a slower pace and it’s more about dogged endurance, then podcasts or audiobooks make a great distraction.


Perseverence is key


Nobody is brilliant right away, and that's demoralising. If you can only run for a minute without stopping on day one, don’t give up! Try Couch to 5K, which gradually builds you up to running 5km without stopping via managed runs and walks.


Anybody can run 5K, and that’s not just a soundbite: I genuinely believe it to be true. It just requires patience, commitment to training and the strength of character not to give up on it when you hit demoralising obstacles.


If I can do it, anybody can.


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