The older of the two dentists on the Greek island of Hydra did things the old-fashioned way. In the waiting room of his elegant, book-lined surgery in Hydra Town?s backstreets there was a tray of hard liquors. Clutching my aching tooth, I tried not to wonder who they were for ? the dentist or his patients.
In his grandfather?s reclining chair, the full vintage quality of the dentist?s operation came into view: in the drawer, alongside the ancient scalpels, was his treasured collection of cigarette lighters. It was a long way from the cold, clinical climate of my London surgery.
Indeed, the Greek island of Hydra is, in many ways, a throwback to a simpler time; a time when there were two options to a bothersome wisdom tooth: a mouthful of clove oil or a bit of string and the slam of the door (I opted for the former).
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