I remember a time where my dental health programme consisted of a toothbrush and toothpaste. The toothbrush was largely chosen on the basis of the colour of the handle, and the toothpaste was largely chosen on the basis of whatever was on special offer at the Co-op. Not the stripey paste, obviously, because that was for posh people. Incidentally, the Co-op was the place where my mother once encouraged me to pull out the bottom box of tea from the pyramid of boxes of tea as a “science experiment”. The last thing I remember from that day is tea cascading onto my head as my mother’s fading voice shouted “I said run!”.
All through my twenties I pitched up at the dentist faithfully twice a year, to be complimented on how well I was I cleaning my teeth. Then one day my dentist cheerily informed me that I had now “overbrushed” and had worn the enamel away. An electric toothbrush was called for to prevent further damage.
And so began an ever increasingly complex dental care plan. I swear to God, the dentists are on commission from Sensodyne. I have had differing varieties of electric brush, assorted tubes of Sensodyne, floss, tape, little stick thingies to jab between my teeth, and latterly special mouthwash which judging by the price is made by dental surgeons with a PhD in mouthwashology in a sterile lab in Aspen.
I now have to think about going to bed at about 1pm in the afternoon so I can plan in the 15 step bedtime routine. Still, when I am sat drooling in the old folks home at least I’ll have my own teeth.