A brief footnote in tribute to my family of left front crowns and, in particular, to the second but last.
Let's call him Colin - you can see him on the left.
Colin and I were together for a number of years but, a couple of months ago, my dentist informed me that Colin was bent. So much so that he would have to leave (my mouth).
However, despite the fact that Colin was living on borrowed time, my dentist thought it best that he came out in his own time.
What happened next was why Colin will always be remembered with affection, at least by me.
He had come loose and I booked an appointment to have him looked at.
But, as I walked to the train station en route to the dentist, Colin did come out. I was on my phone at the time.
I stopped immediately and checked the footpath, but Colin could not be found. I even checked under a couple of cars parked beside where I stood, but to no avail. Colin had gone. Plus, my train was waiting and I needed a wee.
So, I arrived at the dentist - sporting a gap where Colin used to be - and explained what had happened. My dentist tutted a bit, before replacing Colin with a temporary crown and dispatching me to make another appointment to get my (horrible!) denture fitted.
Around about 45 minutes later, I arrived home and really needed the loo again (it must've been all the excitement).
I bolted upstairs, opened my belt, dropped my undercrackers - and Colin fell out.
I took him back to visit my dentist again last week, but she graciously said I could keep him as a reminder of the days when I didn't talk like Louie Spence.
I might have Colin mounted. I think he would like that.
