DORIC CORNER WITH DEBBIE LESLIE

Debbie Leslie lives in Inverurie. She is a writer, after-dinner speaker, former Scottish Book Trust Reader in Residence for Aberdeenshire, and creator of dottyabootdoric greetings cards.

As Robert Burns said in his Address To The Toothache, sair teeth really is the “hell o’ a’ diseases”.

An wi folk nae bein able te see an NHS dintist an resortin te pullin their pearly fites wi pliers, a dintal disaster is nae lachin maitter.

Ah recently hid a mishanter wi a Curly Wurly aat resultit in a malagaruzed molar. Ah wis lucky eneuch te get an appyntmint the neist day. An aifter fit seemt like firivver o powkin, whurrin, dirlin an grindin, the ordeal wis ower, an Ah wis reduced te a slivverin, shakkin sotter.

Ah nivver eesed te bi sic a feartie, an the ironic thing is aat ma first job wis as a dintist’s side-kick. Bit mebbe aat’s the problem – Ah ken ower muckle…

Ah wirkit atween Union Street an anither practice in Victoria Road, Torry. Ah likit Torry better – it hid a sma toon feel aat suitit ess country quine.

Torry wis full o characters – fae the nae-nonsense wifies in the baker far wi got wir butteries, te the patients aat wirkit in the fish an cam in wi their waldies on, hummin te high hivven; or the pensioner aat wannert in aff the street, plonkit hersel doon in the dintist’s cheir an speirt fir a shampoo an set.

Growin up, dintal hygiene wis at the boddom o the list o priorities. It wis aa aboot scrubbin knees an necks, muckin oot lugs, an kaimin throwe yer heid fir ony signs o infestation.

‘Dental care’ wis fin yer dad tied a bit o string roon yer wobbly teeth, the ither eyn te the doorknob, an syne slammed the door. Sortit.

Ah myn fin the dintist’s van cam te the skweel – naebody wid play aside it, an it sut there like some affa mobile torture chamber. Leaflets aboot foo te clean yer teeth an “Happy Smile” badges wis dished oot afore the dintist arrived – a case o shuttin the stable door aifter the horse hid boltit.

In ess day an age, maist folk wint te hing onte their ain teeth as lang’s they can. Bit it wisna aye like aat: Ah wis deein a reminiscence session an a wifie telt ma foo she’d hid ‘the pyorrhea’ an gettin her teeth oot wis the best day o her life; some’dy else said aat a set o falsers wis thocht te be a great 21st birthday present.

Ma mither-in-laa telt ma a story aboot a hilarious dintal debacle aat happent in Meldrum in the 1950s.

A dintist set up a makshift practice in a big hoose in the square. He teen aa his patients’ teeth oot, promised them new falsers… an syne did a meenlicht flit wi aabody’s siller an the wallies nivver materialised. Reportedly, ae wifie hid te ging wioot teeth aas lang, she cud crack pandrops wi her gums.

Nooadays, shammelt an yalla gnashers can bi strachened an fitened an ony orra-leukin gaps fullt wi implants an crowns. Or, iv yer finances winna streetch te aat, ye can loup on a plane an get yersel some “Turkey Teeth” – a fine new set o sparklin piana keys aat winna brak the bunk.

Fitivver ye’re up till ess wikeyn – waatch fit ye’re deein… an dinna bite aff mair than ye can chaa.

Hae a gran day, folks!