Sheer Heaven

I popped into the hardware store in Halesworth today when I paid my 9-monthly visit to the dentist, and it was like entering an Aladdin's cave. Everything you could possibly want and an awful lot that you didn't really need but would like to own was displayed beguilingly through its ample indoor acreage. Some women like shopping for shoes, especially the ones with red soles (?) and some for clothes. My former next door neighbour is a well-known dress designer and I've visited his shop and atelier in Mayfair at his invitation, but the only thing I had eyes for was the wonderful oak staircase and beautiful shade of pale green paint on the walls. Forget the frocks. Others like browsing stores selling beautiful things for the home. Give me the multi-purpose hardware outlet any day, with its range of gardening tools and equipment, kitchen appliances and gadgets, paints and and and well things, useful things. I came out with two bulging bags and could have bought the entire stock.

My dentist is as beautiful as any model, and lovely with it. I'm sure he quakes when he sees me, though, because my well-known terror of the drill, or even the examination with pick and mirror, is enough to undermine anyone. But he always smiles reassuringly during his perusal around my gums, and congratulates me on how well I clean my teeth. I have to laugh every time, not that easy with a mouthful of instruments, because honestly, I've had around 63 years of brushing my teeth by myself. I should have it right by now shouldn't I?