Check Up

Cleaned, double cleaned, flossed, ne'ery a bite of breakfast eaten, lest my smiley dentist with the tendencies of a prison guard mixed with those of a torturer would find at my 9am appointment a morsel of yesterday's lunch or today's breakfast, hidden and lurking in some crevice unreachable to normal mortals.

I was ready for her question- "are you flossing your teeth, LadyFindhorn?" said with a trademark winning smile as she triumphantly holds aloft an infinitesimal crumb of something on the end of her horrible long probe"( except I don't get the recognition of my title, just my first name- you don't get the respect on the NHS these days.)

This time I was going to be brutally honest and was ready with a straight no holds barred answer -
"No I only floss the night before I come here, otherwise there would be the danger of either going about with little brushes sticking out from between my tightly packed teeth and frightening dogs and children or pulling out a tooth in the extraction of the said brushes.
These teeth have served me well for more decades that I wish to acknowledge, so I must be doing something right. Back off from the flossing, please!". (I always aim to be polite.)

You know what? She didn't find any crumbs and she didn't ask the question.
I wrote a cheque for £10-44 and scarpered to the nearest café for a big fat scone.
I'll worry about next June's check up the night before. Touch wood I won't need to see her before then.

Don't be fooled by the robin perched so cheerily on the basin. She put it there as a distraction to the scene in the torture chamber. I don't think dentists have many friends, this seemed to be the only card she had.