I was
sat in my surgery one day when the receptionist walked in and said,” Mr Ashmore
is in the waiting room. When he comes in try not to stare at his head, he has
the most obvious wig you could imagine.” I told her to bring him in. The wig
was, as she said, obvious. It looked the wrong colour, it looked cheap and sat
on his head like a clod of turf. He hung
his coat up and my assistant welcomed him into the surgery with the words,”
Would you like to take a seat Mr. Wigmore.”
Another
day a new patient came in to the practice, obviously not short of money,
Saville Row suit, Cartier shoes, all the best designer wear before it was
trendy to wear labels. He sat in the chair and lay back for his check up and we
found a small cavity. I decided to do the filling there and then so after the
injection had taken I proceeded to drill out the decay. As the nurse brought
the suction tube to his mouth, the Rolls Royce Silver Seraph of hairpieces slid
slowly off his head and stuck to the suction tube. The wig was handed to the
patient who silently and in a most dignified manner, placed it back on his head
and held it there for the remainder of the treatment.