Some of these stories bring back the horrible memories of the dentist in the 50s and 60s. I remember mum saying that if I didn’t go, she would let me be seen by the school dentist and they had quite a reputation! We brushed every night before bed and if we ran out of toothpaste, we had to use salt. When I went to the dentist (every 6 months) I was scared but if I cried, he would give me a slap on the leg. If I was good, I would be given a sweet from his sweetie jar. He called the huge drill an aeroplane (supposedly to make it seem fun?). I had four big molars pulled to make room. Oh yes I remember the smell of that black rubber mask. Also he pulled one of my eye teeth, telling us it was a baby tooth, then a few years later, another dentist had to x-ray as my adult eye tooth hadn’t come through. That’s when it was found that it was an adult tooth that he’d pulled. There had been a tiny brown bit showing and apparently a baby tooth wouldn’t have been worth saving. I’ll never forgive him for that. On that side of my mouth my teeth are badly twisted and look awful. I wish I could afford to have some cosmetic work done. I’m still really nervous when I go but my dentist now is so lovely and so patient. What a difference to those “old days”.