Well, allow me to turn those ripples of glee to shudders of horror.
Those are not beads.
They're teeth. Human teeth.
It's a Chinese sign that apparently advertises a Doctor for treating miscellaneous diseases.
What is it about dentists that makes so many of us avoid them? Not socially, just professionally. I know two mouth experts who are delightful young women. I'm fond of them both. Mind you, when I'm in their company, my tongue does spend much of the time guiltily poking about my pegs.
And although I don't exactly fear a visit to the tooth doctor, I do recall the day that resulted in my reticence. I'm guessing I was about ten the day Dr Skinner yanked out that molar.
I have large teeth.
With long roots.
His face still looms clearly in my memory. Leaning close through the smell of disinfectant and his smoker's breath, he was grimacing.
His eyes squinched to almost closed with the effort.
'It's a tough one,' he muttered in the direction of Mum, sitting supportively in the corner. ' Going to need a bit extra oomph.'
He braced his foot against the pedestal of the hydraulic chair for extra leverage.
My right ear filled with an echoing grind and crack as my mouth filled with warm sweet blood.
Here for your viewing discomfort is a selection of images that help keep that memory alive for me.
And I'm sadistically hoping they just might trigger something for you, too.
Are you there?
How about now?
Still with me?
Has your stomach done a Fosbury flop?
Can you feel that squishy wound where your tooth used to be?
Does the ghost of an ache haunt your jaw?
During the month of April, I am participating in the Blogging from A–Z Challenge.
My posts all feature images of and by the Wellcome Collection, Euston, London: the free destination for the incurably curious.