Cat in Sitges."Very interesting, Joe," says Tim the dentist as he introduces mysterious objects into my mouth accompanied by blue flashes. He is reinforcing the back of a row of teeth with a sort of fibre glass brace, something new to dentistry it seems. "It's very strong; it's welded with resin, "he says, adding to Trace, the dental nurse, " I should start teaching this." He is normally a man of few words from which I deduce that he is pleased with his work and his mastery of the technique. Meanwhile I can't wait to sink my teeth into something, anything.
The bus driver waiting outside his bus, has a cigarette between thumb and forefinger. It is a style of smoking I recall from earlier times, when a quick puff was often followed by a fanning action of the free hand and the concealment of the offending fag behind the back with the other. For some reason the phrase " a cunning Woodbine" comes to mind, the reference being to a brand of small, inexpensive cigarette then in vogue among the indigent.
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