Dentists and naughty schoolgirls

Pork Chop has a cold at the moment which means I am not getting a great deal of sleep. The poor little mite has snot pouring out of her nose but she enjoyed her swimming lesson nevertheless - horrid mummy making her go regardless! Granny came along too and thoroughly enjoyed watching Pork Chop splash around.

Having enjoyed a leisurely lunch with my mother (Granny in case you hadn't realised), who had actually taken the day off to do a spot of babysitting, it was my turn to slope off to see the torturer, oops sorry, hygienist.

Now rewind about four months when Pork Chop was just two months old and that was when I was originally meant to go. However, it all went a bit pear-shaped because of a lack of antibiotics. Basically I have a heart murmur or un souffle coeur as a doctor in France once told me. It has never bothered me, I never knew about until I was 21 but by some curious quirk of nature it means whenever I have dental work done I have to take a dose of the ABs beforehand because otherwise bacteria released could cause an infection in my heart. I secretly suspect the risk of this is probably quite small however, the dentist won't do any work until I have taken them.

On that first occasion I rushed around getting Pork Chop looked after and arrived for my appointment somewhat flustered, forgot the ABs and was promptly shown the door. My poor mother must have thought I was mental as I phoned ( you must remember I was still a bit post natal at this point) and burst into tears.

This time round there was no problem. With Pork Chop duly fed and left curled up in her cot I settled down into the hygienist's chair for half an hour of pain and bleeding. My mouth now feels as though it has done five rounds with Mike Tyson. On top of that I was told off for not cleaning my teeth properly and am now supposed to shove a tiny little brush in between the gaps every time I clean them. In my defence, I am not as slovenly as you may think and do vigorously brush my teeth twice a day. However, it seems that you are supposed to clean in between the gaps with a vicious wire brush regularly to make sure they are really spotless. I went away, duly chastised, feeling somewhat like a misbehaving schoolgirl and £40 lighter.

So now I am off to use my funny little wire brushes while my Pork Chop continues to sleep soundly in her bed. But before I go I just wanted to add my two pence worth on the subject of a little known change in the law. Littlejohn beat me to it in the Mail today but I agree with him and so does my other half - who the hell thought it was a good idea to make failure to have a bell on your bicycle a criminal offence? You can now be fined up to £2,500 or be imprisoned for up to two years. It seems utterly ridiculous and yet another stupid legal stick with which to beat law-abiding people. Shoplifting? Go ahead, help yourself. No bell on your bike? Go to jail, do not pass go, do not collect £200. Obviously there are people in power who have nothing better to do than think up irritating rules designed to impinge on our freedom that little bit more. Prisons are already overcrowded. I await with interest the first news story to be published about little old Mrs Marjorie Jones, from rural Devon, banged up in Holloway because she forgot to put a bell on her bike.