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.
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.