Kendal gasworks

I have heard it said - no doubt by someone with a mouthful of amalgam - that in the seventies dentists were paid by the filling. That may not be true but God knows it would explain my dentist’s behaviour. That said, I was constantly being given sweets by my grandparents’ generation, those poor souls who had lived through the war and, most relevantly, rationing. 

Over the years I certainly seem to have required less drill-based intervention by my various dentists but I still find the appointments to be a source of mild anxiety. Certainly if I didn’t make each new appointment at the point of leaving the just completed one, I wouldn’t be back every six months. 

But back I was, this morning, for a session with the hygienist and then with my current and long-standing dentist, Ben. After just a quick jaunt around my mouth with his pointy metal prodder, he declared that there was not, in fact, anything that needed doing. Hooray!

After doing a quick circuit of the waiting room with my jumper pulled over my head, I made an appointment for six months’ time, and made an exit before Ben reconsidered his opinion. My car was in the Peppercorn car park at the back of Abbot Hall. I hadn’t noticed this this inscription before, which I’ve seen previously in Liverpool. And a little research reveals that the façade used to be on the Kendal Gasworks but was re-erected here after the gasworks was demolished in 1969.

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‘A History Of Seven Killings’ by Marlon James