THE girls were gathered for our usual Sunday catch-up when one of my friends asked how my six-year-old granddaughter Eilidh was doing.
"Great," I replied. "One of her top front teeth is nearly out and she is hoping for a tenner from the Tooth Fairy."
"A tenner!" exclaimed Christine.
"She won't get a tenner," I told them. "But I did try to explain to Eilidh the importance of looking after her new teeth when they came in so she doesn't end up with false teeth.
"I was wasting my time. She's only six and had no idea what false teeth were."
Well, this started a hilarious conversation about false teeth.
I recalled the night I had to pick up my then-boyfriend Alan from his brother's stag night.
"Just come up," he indicated from the window as I parked outside his flat.
Inside I found a very drunk groom-to-be flopped over the toilet.
"Hi," I said. "I see Jim's had a few."
Alan shook his head as he reached over to flush the toilet.
Suddenly, with his head still down the toilet, Jim started flapping his hands and making all sorts of strange noises.
"You'll be fine," Alan assured him as he flushed the loo.
"Mumble mumble," came the reply. Suddenly Jim seemed to be in a panic.
"Ma teef. Ma teef," he roared.
But it was too late. Little did we know that his false teeth had been at the bottom of the toilet and now the groom's teeth were gone forever.
Mercifully Jim managed to get an emergency set made up for his wedding two days later.
"Don't mention anything to our mum," the brothers pleaded. "She wouldn't find it funny."
I had no intention of letting the cat out of the bag.
But as we stood outside the hotel waving off the newly married couple, the groom's mum asked us to explain why their bridal car had the word JAWS sprayed on either side.
Once we stopped laughing Christine said: "My mum hated her false teeth.
"Years ago she spotted an ad for a part-time job she fancied but she was so self-conscious about her teeth, that she said to us 'If only I had a new set I would have applied for that job'.
"Right then my dad butted in. 'Does it say in the advert only those with new teeth need apply'? he asked her."
Senga then piped up with a tale.
"I hadn't been nursing for very long when one of the young trainee nurses on night shift was given the task of going round the ward to clean the patients' false teeth."
"Oh no," we collectively scream, horrified at the very thought.
"Yes," chuckled Senga. "But the bright spark of a nurse thought she would save time by putting them all into the same bucket to clean them.
"It ended up taking us the whole night to try to match them up and work out whose was whose.
"But," she sniggered, "at least they were clean,"
Shaking my head in disgust I added: "I
do remember my mum coming home with a new set of false teeth which seemed a bit large for her mouth.
"My uncle noticed that somehow she looked a bit different.
"'Aye, she's got a new set of false teeth,'" confirmed my father.
"Then he added: 'I think she's breaking them in for Red Rum.'"
"Well, it's not just false teeth that cause problems," said Christine. "A friend of mine recently got new veneers and her brother told her 'Yes, they are lovely. Bet you could eat an apple through a letter box with those teeth'."
Little sympathy was shown by the group when Mae chipped in.
"Well as a young girl, I knew exactly what false teeth were."
And we wondered how because Mae has her own teeth, which are lovely.
"I remember my dad coming down stairs one morning in a right state," Mae explained.
"'Ishobel. Ishobel'," Mae mimicked her dad. "'There's shumshing shrong with ma fashe. I cannae shpeak right'."
We were in hysterics as Mae continued.
"My mum came running out of the kitchen in a panic.
"'What's up Jimmy'?" she screeched. "It sounds like you've had a stroke.
"Don't worry, you'll be fine. Just sit there till I get my teeth in and I'll phone the doctor'."
"Oh no, that's terrible. Was he all right?" asked Christine.
"All right?" said Mae. "A minute later my mum came hurtling down the stairs from the bathroom and before he could duck out of her reach she whacked him on the back of the head with a rolled up newspaper.
"'Jimmy, you daft lump. Those are my teeth you've got in."
When we finally stopped laughing I thought to myself: "If only Eilidh was old enough to understand our horror stories, she would be brushing her teeth morning, noon and night."