The entertainment started with a scrape and polish from the hygienist. As a yukky job, I think personally that scraping gunge off peoples' teeth all day for a living must take a bit of beating, but maybe they enjoy it - I guess it takes all sorts. Anyway, she wasn't the usual hygienist, who is quite chirpy and chatty, and her communication in monosyllables wasn't my idea of the perfect bedside manner. Coupled with some rather vicious digging with a sharp instrument which made my gums bleed. It was apparently because I didn't "floss" enough: the way she said it was more of a criticism than an apology. We got round to discussing why not and maybe it was the flippant way I said "I'm lazy" which must've put her back up, but I got treated like a naughty schoolboy who hadn't done his homework properly. Considering I was paying £30 or so for the experience, I shall be making I sure I get an appointment with the regular hygienist in future!
A check-up from the dentist himself revealed two small cavities: I don't very often escape these days without having to have some work done! Rather sadly, they're both in teeth which hadn't been filled before, and I must confess I was quite proud of having up until then still got eight totally unblemished teeth left. Nothing lasts forever, though, and I think my teeth on the whole have survived reasonably well. I remember as a teenager the familiar sight of my parents' dentures soaking overnight in their little beakers in the bathroom at home: I don't remember a time when my mother didn't have false teeth, and my father had a decreasing number of his own teeth left by the time he was my age. It may be a sign of better dental care these days, or perhaps some hereditary factor - or possibly a combination of both. My dentist, being something of a perfectionist takes the other side of the 'glass half empty/half full' thing, and sighs somewhat over the fact I don't take more care of them!