Dentist horror

I AM sure many, many Newport people will empathise with Graeme Jones’s visit to Clytha Clinic.
The rotten memories for many ragged-trousered kids being dragged up Bridge Street came flooding back as I saw the name. The NHS dentist!
In the 1950s, loads of screaming, frightened children would gather with their mothers in a drab waiting room, heated by a big coal boiler with pipes disappearing through the ceiling.
Some kids were drawn to the warmth of the wire guard surround, as sounds of teeth being drilled and pulled pierced the packed room.
Kids would appear back from the dentist’s chair clutching their cheeks with hankies dripping with blood.
The clinic was dreaded across town by little urchins who had to go there.
It was an unreal experience in those days, with huge rubber masks, ancient dental tools and uncomfortable leather chairs.
Kids would do anything to avoid the place, though continuous yelling didn’t save them.
As you laid in the chair, mouth being probed by a pair of rubber gloves and sharp prongs, you could only escape to the thought of Blackjacks which were to be your reward for being a ‘good boy’!