From Corsodyl with Love

Something Melbourne doesn't have to offer (aside late night alternative dancing spots in dingy basement clubs and community halls) is Corsodyl. Two days before I travelled to China I found myself strapped (maybe just held down) to a chair just of Kingsland Road, Dalston. As I lay victim, my Greek dentist hacked at the offending bits of bone with a chisel, mercilessly scraping clean the plaque clogging up my mouth and in the process a good chunk of my enamel. I attribute the final flurry of mouth fur to the weekend spent raving in a field in Hackney - the precursor to gum disease. I'd been out for three days straight and found myself in a neurosurgeons bathroom on Sunday afternoon finger brushing, too little, too late. Since that painful episode I have vowed to take proper care of my teeth. Yet this promise hasn't been an easy one, I'm a little lazy by all accounts, perhaps down to poor habits as a child or simply that brushing teeth is dull/forgetful. I've taken to combining the activity weeing or showering. A product I have grown a particular fondness to is Corsodyl. It's like bleaching, for your mouth, a chemical process that somehow feels synthetic yet strangely fulfilling. At first when it was prescribed to me I hated it, the staining and the intense aftertaste, felt unfamiliar and polluting. Over time (and with the impending fear of plaque attack) it has become an itch I must scratch, typically it’s not available in this country. However there is an alternative, Sanocol, same chemical, different taste/sensation entirely. Unhappy with its poorer brother I receive bottles of mouthwash (upon my request) as presents from trips abroad, "err do you really want mouthwash Martina? Yes, please!"



My newest member, fresh from Dubai courtesy of Toro. Next the old bottle available in the UK.