Down with false teeth

When I was small, I was scared stiff of my mother’s false teeth. They used to sit there  in a glass of murky looking liquid, and they grinned at me in an  evil way. I was sure. if I turned my back on them, they’d be out of the glass in a flash and clamping themselves on me.

So what to do when my back teeth started getting loose? Put up with a lifetime of squidgy food? ‘Dentures,’ said my buxom Polish dentist, and didn’t seem to register my horror.

Never, never: I thought.

And never it has been, thanks to the wonderful attention of Delhi hi-tech dentists who have inserted implants for one-fifth of the price I’d have been charged in the UK.

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Of course it has meant going to India every three months till they get themselves settled. But hey, what’s so bad about that? I can live with that. And with teeth.

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