Dental care, extraction apart, is not a part of the Spanish social security system. Because it costs money to go to the dentist we haven't done it since we got here. That means it is something like 18 months since anyone has peered into my mouth. Today though someone wearing latex gloves and a face mask sucked spittle out of my mouth and then charged me 50€ for the pleasure.
With Maggie working down near the coast we went to a dentist that some of her pals had recommended, close to her work, in a place called Gran Alacant. Gran Alacant is basically a housing estate for foreigners. It was just like tens of dental surgeries I've been to in the UK. The magazines on the table were old and in English. The dentist wasn't ready for us at the appointed time, the receptionist, like everyone else associated with the practice, wore a white coat and was brusque without being unpleasant. There were posters of teeth and leaflets for mouthwash. A small child screamed as we waited, though Maggie assured me it was because the lad had fallen off the swings outside and had been brought in to see the doctor rather than the dentist.
Anyway, surprisingly, the dentist said my teeth, and Maggie's, were OK and to come back in 6 months.