It was half past nine, I’d just turned the ovens off and I was hoping that I wouldn’t need them again that day. Damn but it was hot in the kitchen, and I had to stay there. Things to do, people to see, baking sheets to scrape down and scrub, as usually happens on a Wednesday morning. The phone rang. One of the girls answered it. Hanna. I heard her lying to the caller.

“Oh, sorry, he’s not here at the moment, if you…oh! yes I’ll just get him for you.” That’s what she said, that’s pretty much how she said it. We get plagued with sales calls, anywhere up to seven or eight of them on particularly bad days, from utility firms, and that’s what I’ve asked all the staff to do. Lie. I lie to these people too. I deny that I’m the owner of the business, but if they’d like to leave their name, business and number, he’ll be delighted to call them back. If he’s interested. Which he won’t be. They never leave a number. I tend to hang up about then.

Anyway, this call was from the lovely Kelly, receptionist to my dentist. There had been a cancellation or two, and therefore Ail would like to squeeze me in for my crown fitting early if I was interested. I was. I removed by baking apron and, dusting the flour and blood from my shoes, scooted up the road to the surgery.

As I sat in the chair, the protective goggles appeared upon my face and the ready primed and speeding drill bit screamed into the temporary plastic crown. Right through it onto the unprotected stump beneath. I twitched somewhat. Ail withdrew, mopped my brow and apologised. After drilling the bulk of the plastic off she proceeded to scrape the stump clear of the last traces. My eyes were popping. Ail smiled into them. We’re nearly finished she murmured, her voice drowsy with love. Or something like it.

We were indeed nearly finished. Five minutes later and a couple of hundred sovs lighter, I was being waved a fond farewell out of the door.

I had to go see my dad that evening. He’s been right poorly, has my dad. We thought we were going to lose him a few weeks ago. But he’s bounced back. And my sister and I dragged our two useless brothers to a family meeting to explain that it really would be helpful if we could all find it in ourselves to go round, one per day only so it involves no more than two visits a week, to see that he’s fed, clean and whole, daily. Spread between the four of us. One brother was determined to do nothing but bang on relentlessly about his ‘partner’s’ mother’s place in France, about whom and which I do not give a fuck. The other brother kept complaining that all he could see was flashing lights whenever he looked at the screen of his mobile phone and that he can’t read anything written in a seriffed font. My sister and I compared him to various parts of the human anatomy, usually kept sheltered from the public gaze, as we also did the other brother when he sprang to his sibling’s defence. I very rarely have anything to do with my two brothers. Some people wonder why.

Anyway, my dad was quite well that evening and I got to his door with a big bag of fish and chips, enough for the both of us, hot from the chippie.

“Fish and chips, dad?”

“Oh, I don’t really fancy it…”

“You did yesterday when I asked you if you fancied fish and chips tonight. Remember?”


“And you did when I phoned you an hour ago to ask again if you fancied it, knowing that you tend to forget stuff more than usual just lately.”

“Did I?”

“Yes dad.”

“Oh, I know.”

“What do you know, Dad?”

“Do you know what I really fancy for my dinner?”

“Er, no, what’s that then?”

“Well, sorry if you were thinking of cooking me something, but I really fancy a bit of fish and chips.”

“Well destroy my virginity with a soil auger and half a pound of Trex! Guess what I’ve got right here in this carrier bag!”

Never was a meal of haddock and chips so well enjoyed.


8 thoughts on “Prince

  1. This is like a Mills & Boon dentist romance with social realism thrown in. I reckon it’s a best seller if you change the names to protect the innocent. Except your brothers.

    1. O Sheds I was enchanted and intrigued in equal measure to see that I’d appeared in your dream. In a hotel room too! The strange thing is, I spent Saturday evening on the internet checking out hotels in Rome and booked a long weekend there for next week. How spooky is that? We’re staying at the Hotel Cecil, does that name ring any bells?

      Now, I may have posted a picture of myself once on my blogspot blog but that’s been deleted for a couple of years now. And of course I recently changed my avatar to show a barely recognisable picture of myself sitting on an Eastern European well. So tell me Sheds, how did you know it was me? In the real world I think I look a bit like a very unwell, not very feasible George Clooney lookalike with mild facial deformities.

      Meaning I’m male with greying hair.

      I get the idea, in the absence of any evidence to the contrary, that you’re quite glam, wavy blondish hair with a stunning smile. Would you appear in my dreams? Ooh the mysteries of the dark netherworld of sleep. Perhaps I was in your hotel room because you were sleeping while I was vibrating in tune with the Universe. You’re likely to find me on the electromagnetic frequency that hovers between ultraviolet and ultravox. Uh Vienna for short.

      So, there we are. Here’s hoping you’re very well and happy and all that, and all my best wishes to you

      XG Sent from my Windows Phone ________________________________

  2. Did you ever have a picture of yerself on msn hotspaces or whatever the jiggery pokery it was called? Honestly, I’m CONVINCED I know what you look like, but I don’t honestly know how.

    Your picture on your avatar is too small for me honestly to tell you whether you look like I THINK you should. You really should be more considerate when displaying your visage.

    It was an English hotel sadly, and a grotty one at that. I had been living there for a number of days for unspecified reasons, despite having a perfectly good house to live in. I think possibly the ‘vintage tat’ quota in my house got too high and I was forced to evacuate.

    As for my insane good looks…wavy, yes. My hand is never still. Glam, well, …er, no. Blonde, negative. Once was. Now a resolute brunette. Stunning smile…it’s not as stunning as my headbutting skills, but saying it’s like the sun coming out is nothing short of narcissistic.

    Aaaaah, Vienna!

    Until our frequencies meet once more.


    1. Well I’d be shite as a witness at a police line up for people for whom we’re guessing at their appearance wouldn’t I? I don’t remember ever exposing myself on spaces, and I’m sure I would if I had.

      Mebbe I’ll put up a picture of myself one day but I really don’t know if the world will ever be ready. I dreamed last night that I was cleaning out my dead mother’s house. Plenty of vintage tat there I don’t mind telling you.

      Now, let’s vibrate!! X

      Sent from my Windows Phone ________________________________

      1. Just think G, you could well have walked past me totally incognisent of the wonder that Dr. Angel is has been close. Close. Closer than close. Closer than you ever could have imagined randomness.

        If I could describe myself I would say I have haunted hollows for eyes and a nose that only the industrial revolution could truly understand. Suffice to say, I often don’t post ‘selfies’ for fear of changing the city skape of a developing country.

        I think I did see you on MSN spaces. On your old blog.

        Still loving the blog. Very much. In my top 3 blogs defo.


        Dr. A x

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