Teeth !

Tony hated the dentist. You might ask ‘who doesn’t?’, but I mean he really hated the dentist.

I think it all came down to bad childhood experience where the clumsy and unaesthetcised drill of a war-time  Wales had a very young Tony running down the streets of Monmouth with the dentist’s drill hanging from his mouth.

Tony showed me where he ran once when we were in Monmouth.

He was little better as an adult. Visits to the dentist were few and far between and only in emergency. Once, while we were living in Colliers Wood, he had to have a tooth removed – I was at work and his tiny, but wonderful mother, who had come to stay with us, had to all but carry her groggy son home from his extraction.