Barely eleven in the morning and I was slurring my words. Bottle of rum on the desk. But my difficulties speaking were the result of a couple of hours in the dentist’s chair, the spirits a gift for Charles. I’d popped back to his basement office to thank him for his considerable help with documentation issues. Promised him we’d be in touch again.
It’d been a long stint in the chair but I was very pleased. Dr Tim and Anna, his assistant, had given my teeth a through overhaul, ready now for the ’Stans and China. Mostly preventative stuff. I’d been looking forward to the early morning visit since my check-up a few weeks earlier. Anna was the first Serbian I’d encountered since leaving Serbia, and I’d enjoyed chatting at length about her home country, attempting to explain it’s strange hold over me, my desire to return.
Leaving Charles’ office, a much more important task now beckoned. Off to the airport. My mother was arriving shortly, spending a few days on the island. We’d agreed to meet that evening at her hotel, but in the end I’d decided that was a bit weak. Very least I could do was to greet her as she emerged from Arrivals. Had even made a sign especially. Simply said ’Mum’.
