A Mouthful

Dear O'H dear and Lovely Tea Jenny,

Today I went to the dentist. My Dentist is very lovely. She is also very very chatty. I am happy to be her captive audience but you would think she would have realised that it is impossible to speak when there is a hand and a spiky tool in your mouth. Our conversations go something like this:

Chatty Dentist: Any gossip?

Me: Nnmmgggg
(translation : Charles Manson popped his clogs)

Chatty Dentist: Oh well that’s exciting. How’s your mum doing?

Me: Nnmmgggg.
(translation : Still barking)

Chatty Dentist: Glad to hear it. Are you organised for Christmas?

Me: Nnmmgggg
(translation : Not unless you mean stockpiling Prosecco on special offer)

Chatty Dentist: Oh that’s good. When do your kids finish up for the holidays?

Me: Nnmmgggg
(translation : Stop asking me chuffing questions with your hands in my mouth)

Chatty Dentist: 22nd was that? Lovely, that’s you done. Nice to catch up on your news. See you in 6 months.

I didn’t even get a sticker.

C