bit far though! i would rather not bother and let the butchers have a go!!!! :lol:

Your right Monsta it is a long way to go just for a dentists appointment, suppose you could have a pint while your up there.

I agree (??!!!!!!!)... the last time I saw him he wouldn't give me antibiotics so I went to another place for a second opinion who gave me them straight away... And he was impolite because I told him I used whitening toothpaste not his £400 treatment. He did apologise, but only after a letter of complaint!

Really...

I too vowed never to go back to Mr Jackson after visiting him for many years. A severe attitude problem is perhaps how it is best described!

I also found him increasingly slap-dash; he seems to begrudge every second of his time that you are paying for! One of his later fillings came straight out though I was careful with it. My current dentist must spend about four times as long as Mr J did for the same sort of jobs, and I exaggerate not!

A pity as Pat Henderson who works there is an excellent dental hygienist, but I'm told that you've got to take the complete package or nothing.

Now the Post Office.

Thankyou,been quite a few people saying he was never there,thought i was going senile because i remember going there as a kid and being terrified

Thank you,been quite a few people saying he was never there,thought i was going senile because i remember going there as a kid and being terrified

That was his surgery when he first arrived in Bedders - probably straight out of dental school - in a broken down old car. He came from somewhere down south and lived in the flat on-site until he made a bit of dosh. However he deserved to do well as he shook things up a bit and kept more up to date than the older school dentists. Bedlington obviously needed him as much as he needed Bedlington. He soon bought a house in a posher part of Blyth, but I believe died a fair while back now.

He also bought the present property from Mr Paton of Brentford Fruit Shop fame. (The Brenton Fruit Shop was the shop next to Watson's old shop on the top-end bus stand.) There was already a small shop in the downstairs of Mr P's house, which Mr H obviously got rid of in the conversion. I think they perhaps knew each other as members of the local Rotary Club. I can't remember what the shop was as it seemed to change hands or be empty rather frequently, and no one ever made a success of a business there.

All dentists surgeries were scary places back in those days and I can recall having gas for extractions in about the place that is now the Post Office counter. When I woke up Mr H asked if I'd been dreaming about collecting biscuit tins. I'd been collecting them on a bogey and taking them to Weymes (sp?) on Front Street East to claim the deposits back. I can remember wondering how he knew this as it was mostly the other end of town.