Off On His Travels

I went to the dentist today. The hygienist, to be precise. Always a bit of an ordeal, as my palate is very ticklish. Not at any other time, just when I'm having my teeth scaled. She applies a gel which numbs everything a bit, but tastes evil. She claims it's gin and tonic flavour, but, believe me, it isn't. But it does help me not to writhe about while she's chipping away.

A couple of doors down, for the last couple of years, was this gallery. I've never seen it open, and the windows rarely had much in them. Now, judging by the post piling up behind the door, the nomad has gone. 

A pity, it was a hint of the exotic in this old grey street.