The Problem With Dentists
A stunning stroll to the dentist yesterday reminded me of the countless dentist appointments I have missed over the years because I was too hungover to leave my bed, let alone spend the morning with a strangers fingers down my throat.
Or the time I decided to brave it after the mother of all red wine ‘dinner party’ binges — turning up with an entirely black tongue after furiously scrubbing at it for half an hour to no avail... My dentist had obviously never encountered such thing as rouged tongue phenomenon and was convinced I had some kind of tongue disease to which I had to convince him just how much red wine I had consumed, whilst sweating profusely and wishing the chair would swallow me whole.
You have my sincere (sancerre)
(...too soon) apologies,