Joined-up Writing!

 

“Hey, look at his handwriting”, said a lady, peering over my shoulder. It’s so small and neat, and it’s in straight lines”.

Wendy and I were at the annual conference of the Christian Dental Fellowship. We go most years, and meet up with old friends, and usually make one or two new ones. The main speaker amalgamates (sorry!) our Christian faith and our chosen career, dentistry, and gives a presentation that is relevant to both. A number of us are retired, but we will forever be dentists! The fellowship also sponsors several of those who feel called to work abroad in mission hospitals, where the needs of the local people are almost unbelievable. One of those working in Africa showed us a number of slides, including those of tumours of the face, head and neck, which were quite appalling. “Look away now, if you like”, he would say, before showing a slide of a girl with a tumour which was almost identical in size to her head. She had probably walked for 3 days to reach the mission hospital, and the skill and dedication of those working there, in removing tumours and carrying our plastic surgery, is awesome.

This year, our main speaker had been unable to make it, and a Baptist minister, married to a dentist, had taken the three main speaking sessions. However, I was asked to speak at the opening meeting – “Something light, but relevant to being a Christian dentist”, was the brief. It reminded me of a church leader who was planning a mission evening just south of Norwich, and he asked if I would speak. He explained that there would be well over 100 people there, many of whom had no faith, as far as he knew, and asked me to “Give us 60% funny and 40% spiritual. I understand you can be funny, and I know you are spiritual”. That was a ‘first’.and though the request has not been repeated since, this came close.

So I spoke about the patient who fled from my surgery, and having nothing else to do ( and being young and naive and in my first practice), I chased him through the town, until he hid in a woodyard, where I failed to find him. I had not really got time to finish the story, and so told them they would have to buy the relevant book to find out what had happened.

Then I asked how many people present (well over 100) had actually caught a burglar. No hands went up. “Don’t be shy”, I coaxed, “I’m sure several of you must have caught a burglar or two in your time”. There were still no hands, and so I proceeded to tell them of the time I had caught a burglar in my Norwich practice, at around 11.30pm at night, on my way back from another convention. I had not got time to finish the story, and so told them to buy the book and find out how the story ended.

When my first book was published many years ago, I was told by the publisher that the main motivation for people to buy books was ‘author presence’. Well, here I was, present at the conference, and speaking. So maybe it was no surprise that a number of people bought books, and several asked me to sign them. Most of them were dentists, and so I signed them, with the greeting, “To a fellow gnasher-basher’, or ‘From one tooth-sleuth to another’, or ’So, we’re both fang-prangers. Enjoy the book!’, and after a while of signing, settled for ‘Best wishes’.

“Hey, look at his handwriting”, said a lady, peering over my shoulder. It’s so small and neat, and it’s in straight lines”. I must confess that that is not always an appropriate description of my handwriting, and if you were to ask the local chemist, who took my prescriptions when I was working, you might get a different story. But I have found that the secret is to go slowly. As soon as I speed up, it gets spidery, and doesn’t stay in a straight line. So I try and go slow, and in my opinion, it is still not very pretty, though there are obviously those who think it is.

But I hail from Norfolk, and there is always one story that comes to mind when I consider handwriting. “I never would have thought it, but my daughter has married a man who can do joined-up writing”, said a lady who lived within the catchment area of my city practice. She was clearly impressed, if not overwhelmed. “I always hoped she would marry someone who would look after her, but who would have thought she would have a husband who could do joined-up writing!” And another cause for pride was that he didn’t live in a council house, and so she had a picture of his home hanging on her living-room wall. “Everyone asks what the house is, and I explain that my daughter lives there”. And in my imagination, I could hear her continuing the conversation, “And – he does joined-up writing. Real posh he is!” I love Norfolk.