“To sit in solemn silence in a dull, dark dock,
In a pestilential prison, with a life-long lock,
Awaiting the sensation of a short, sharp shock,
From a cheap and chippy chopper on a big black block!”
The Mikado, W. S. Gilbert
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I have never quite forgotten the unpleasant, childhood experience of dental procedures.
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Driven perhaps by residual angst, I pay slightly obsessive attention to dental flossing. But a couple of nights ago, the process dislodged what felt like a large pebble.
Exploring my teeth with my tongue gave the impression of a vast jagged cavity.
It was clearly time for a trip to my Cochin dentist: a man of great skill combined with the gentle touch.
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Having hired an auto
with an unusual name
and made a brief, refuelling pit-stop, the rains began in earnest.
The driver attached tarpaulins to the sides of the auto in an attempt to keep us dry.
Thus I arrived incognito at the dentist, as if travelling in purdah.
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Fortune smiled:
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One porcelain filling had a very small chip missing.
An X-ray revealed the rest of tooth to be fine.
Dr Emmanuel’s recommendation: polish the newly rough edge to smoothness.
Then, leave well alone.
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