The dentist laughed at me. ‘I have never seen anyone so happy to get their stitches out.’ Me: ‘I’m ecstatic. Now I can go off and be a PIG, right?’ I suspect I am always a very cheerful sort of dental patient, not because of any especial spirit of fortitude but because I am very susceptible to painkiller highs. (The last time I had dental surgery my boss said he’d never seen me so happy in the office: “carefree, super-affectionate, talked at twice your normal volume, and prone to grinning at people.“) In fact, cunningly concealing a swollen cheek beneath my long bob I zipped around the whole weekend from social engagement to engagement, unfazed by garbled speech and the inability to eat (at one event, my host looked at my jaw and whipped me up a nectarine-blueberry-soy smoothie!) My dentist was still laughing when I left. This Saturday I’m taking some French friends out to Chilli Crab at Jumbo!