Understanding cheese graters with impressionable personalities

When Cookie called me into the surgery this morning I was surprised to see Vivian - the lace maker - painting a cheese grater with waterlilies. This is the thing one does, according to Vivian, to make a statement to one's dentist about one's personality.

This reminded me that in the district adjoining the one George stayed in last summer in Paris, there was a woman who painted waterlilies on teeth for a small fee. This amused George no end and he rolled up each morning for a new set of lily-painted teeth. Felix detests any sort of lily because they remind him of men conniving in darkened rooms to bring about Armageddon.

What Vivian was after, it seems, was some attention to a wisdom tooth that was causing trouble as it erupted. Cookie detests the word erupt because it reminds her of her adolescence. Instead we talk of teeth glimpsing the world in its multivariant ways and coming to an understanding with it in due course. It keeps her happy.

Margaret wasn't very happy this morning because Bessy, instead of going out to relieve herself, had in fact built a barbecue from the loose bricks at the bottom of the garden. Margaret has an aversion to barbecues because they remind her of a misunderstanding she had with herself when she was three days old.

And that is why I am growing so concerned about the allegedly humble cheesegrater making its appearance in the dental surgery. What if, having expressed one's personality to one's dentist via a painting on said object, one comes to a misunderstanding with that personality? I'm not sure I know how I would cope.