The chipped tooth ...

Last Thursday, I chipped a front tooth - I'd been watching a spooky movie, sharing, with Anne, a bottle of Spitfire, nibbling some dark chocolate like a fastidious dormouse - 

Perhaps in anguish at the fate of the movie's sensitive hero, played by Jake Gyllenhaal, I started grinding my teeth together - 

Within seconds the damage was done - I stared, horrified, at my reflection in the bathroom mirror - 

That night I dreamt that I had been turned into a gap toothed old timer - there I was, with my straggly white beard, the young sheriff's loyal sidekick, my wattled neck protruding from a checked shirt -

Yesterday, however, my elfin dentist, Sharon, restored my tooth and, by so doing, restored my spirits - 

I drove to the surgery listening to John Coltrane - I drove past a drive in McDonald's, a primary school and The English Rose Cafe - 

I lay, supine, on Sharon's silver chair, whilst her clever drills did their intricate work - 

My eyes were shut during the treatment - there was indie music on the radio - 

Soon Sharon was holding up a small mirror for me to look into - there I was, once again, I thought, a silvery haired flaneur, ready for any louche adventure - 

I put on my jacket, clasping Sharon's delicate gifted hands -