On Molars and Mysteries.

I had the little tooth cavity filled by Samantha, the hygiene therapist (!), today. I have to say that, for a hygiene therapist (!), she was very good. Very quick, very efficient, and the result is so smooth that my tongue can’t feel the join.

‘This won’t hurt,’ she said. ‘I just need to drill a bit of the old stuff out before I re-fill it. It won’t hurt.’

‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’

At that point I sat up.

‘The last time a woman said to me “I promise this won’t hurt,” you’ll never believe…’

I got pushed back down again. It didn’t hurt.

The only thing I didn’t like was the white uniform she was wearing, although it’s probably better that I don’t say why. I much prefer the dark blue one the others all wear. And now it only remains to see whether the new filling stays there. The three that were done by the male dentists all fell out again.

*  *  *

On the way to the dentist, I saw a man with the strangest nose. Noses come in all shapes and sizes, and mine’s certainly nothing to write home about, but his really looked like a reject that the picker missed during a moment of inattention. Poor bloke.

*  *  *

Today’s intriguing little mystery, however, concerns a piece of paper I found in my jacket pocket. It’s a jacket I haven’t worn for some years, and on the paper was written, seemingly in my handwriting,

Knickers

Loner

Eyes – speak softer but their meaning is clear, and they surely lie.

See what I mean? What was that all about? Where the hell was I in those days?