Dentist!

I have heard this possibly apocryphal story that in the seventies dentists were paid so well for the fillings they installed in their patients' mouths that they would pop a filling in at the drop of a hat and not always not entirely when necessary.  

Now, that narrative would certainly fit my childhood experience but an equally viable explanation would be the large amount of sweets with which my grandparents, aunts and uncles, and family friends would spoil us children. Only twenty-five years after the war - when, let's remember, their homes were being bombed - and fifteen years after the end of rationing, it would be harsh to criticise this way of displaying their love for us. 

Whatever the reason, I ended up with a justifiable dislike of the dentist but over the years I have managed to detach myself from the experience and trot along every six months for the hostile intimacy of the oral examination and the unfortunately regular attention from drills, hooks, clamps, "suction", and local anaesthetic. 

Except I couldn't make my last appointment and didn't set up a replacement. That must have been a couple of years ago. For the last few months, "dentist" has been on my to do list and a couple of weeks ago I finally rang and made an appointment, and today was the day. 

I walked in from work - because, yes, STEPS - and passed this little river, Blindbeck. It forms the boundary between Kendal and Kirkland, the latter being on church ground, where traders who couldn't afford guild fees of Kendal would sell their goods. There must be loads of these little rivers going into the Kent, many of which will have been built over. I like the fact you can still see this fellow. 

Anyway, the dentist appointment went well, thanks for asking. It turned out to be closer to four years since I'd last paid them a visit and yet I DIDN'T NEED ANYTHING DOING. 

****
-8.6kgs
0 words