He was so close I could feel his breath on my face. He looked deep into my eyes and said, trust me – I know what I’m doing. His hands were gentle and skillful as he moved with purposeful intent. I lay back, closed my eyes, inhaled deeply and did not think of England. Oh! I said, and ah!
I am talking dentistry. I am talking restoration of chipped front teeth, and the new method of slapping on some bonding material over the originals to make them look even again. I am talking a lot of money but not as much as if I’d gone all the way and had proper “porcelains” done in the laboratory. To be honest, I did not care overly about the appearance of my front teeth, they were wonky but had been like that for so long that it was just one of those things – how I looked, and I’m English, for goodness sake, everyone knows about our teeth and orthodontics, or lack of. But my dentist maintained that this was not merely a cosmetic exercise for I was grinding them down (when? In my sleep?) to the point where my Bite (he has a thing about this) would be affected, and if your Bite is affected then all hell is let loose in the form of migraines, mandibular dysfunction, postural misalignments and I don’t know what, and my dentist is one of those who doesn’t let an idea drop. And I am dependent on him because of the precarious state of my back teeth, those that are left and have not gone the way of tooth fairy, and no other dentist will touch me with a barge pole, and those that do wear cowboy hats and do terrible things with ghastly consequences. So this one is my Main Man and in the end I do what he says, or at least enough of what he says to keep his good will. We need a few Sessions, he says, to get it right. Relax - you’ll thank me for it in the end, they all do. It’s as close to a Mills and Boon romance as I will ever get, so I should try to enjoy it, and even as I say this, my face is covered with a delicate dusting of grainy powder from the fine polishing after another Bonding session.
Tomorrow Mr. Signs and I go to the BBC Centre in White City to watch some of the finals of Last Choir Standing, in which Son of Signs will be singing with Last Minute, the group that was formed for this purpose. It won’t be shown until Saturday 26th July when there will also be some footage of him and the other lads in Oxford, acting Naturally. There will be five groups and we will apparently be in the studio for six hours. I can’t quite get my head around how I will cope with this, but Mr. Signs will be driving us, and I will be bringing my friend, co-proxamol.
Daughter of Signs has got an upper second for her degree in Performance Arts and is off to Edinburgh next week to prepare for the putting on of her show (of which more anon) for her fringe festival show.
Life, being what it is, nothing is ever as straightforwardly easy as it looks but with both kids working flat out at several projects, I cannot help but ask myself again: where did we go right?
11 comments:
You must be so proud Signs.
What wonderful children you have raised doing what they enjoy in life.
And I bet Master Signs is that really handsome man in the choir.
It is a shame all of this has cost you your mind with your non-stress at seeing your dentist.
Oh teeth, teeth --- the bane of my life. I dread the whole thing.
You must be so proud of your children. I shall mark Son of Signs appearance on teh calendat so I don't miss it.
I'm sure both you and Mr Signs did plenty right and continue to do so.
At this point all I have to do is bake another cake for Achievement Day and sit through Sports Day on Tuesday afternoon....but six hours in a TV studio -- sheeesh ! That's love ;0)
Hey Kahless, thank you. Yes, that's the important thing - that they are doing things they want to do. Master Signs is the one accompanying the lead singer.
I've lost some quids but haven't lost my marbles (though some might argue I never had many to lose in the first place):) And at least I didn't need any injections!
Cusp, yes, yes it is! For can you imagine anything else that would entice such as we to do a thing like this! And yes, I'm proud - because what they do comes out of enthusiasm for the things they love doing, and it doesn't get better than that.
I sometimes wonder how there can be a god if we are created with sets of imperfect gnashers. It's one of the big conundrums really.
I've watched some of this on that website where you're not supposed to post tv clips but everyone does anyway. I'll keep an eye out for Son of Signs! :)
All the best, Signsy, and hope the Beeb thingy is fine.
Me? I was shocked.
Having finished the peanuts and apperriwhatevers from the Land of the Finns i was on the point of battering my avocado into softness in a vain attempt to achieve that ultimate satisfaction.
Then I clicked here.
To every thing there is a reason.....
Moral?
Don't rush things when you have an avocado waiting for you.
Hey Collin, I wonder what website that is - do tell!
Thank you, good Merkin, and you are so right: about reasons and avocadoes, and no doubt other things. I sense a philosophical strain in you, Merkin, and you are clearly a poet or you would not be making those connections.
There is always guacamole, is one way of looking at it, when bashing the avocado feels like the only thing to do.
'....you are clearly a poet or you would not be making those connections.'
Fine thought, and I thank you for that.
However, it was more a case of 'drunk in charge of a keyboard'
Still, my heart is in the right place (despite last night's shennanigans)
Tonight is another night!!
Hi Merkin - a couple of poets I know give their best readings when drunk, in fact one of them is drunk all the time and wouldn't even consider reading - or anything really - without a bottle to glug from. Very rock and roll, but sometimes he passes out before getting on stage.
I sometimes wonder how there can be a god if we are created with sets of imperfect gnashers.
I wonder whethe there are any dentists in heaven...
But Why, if there were dentists there then it could not be heaven, simple as that. For teeth (if such we still have) will be miraculously restored to what they should have been in the first place. If there were a god who cared about such things. And if there were not, then where does heaven fit into the picture? So you see, Doctor, it really is a conundrum.
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