I went to the dentist this morning, here in France. Everyone was very friendly and efficient, and if I had cinq minutes, the receptionist would have a quick word with le docteur. Deux minutes later (I told you they were efficient) I was in The Chair. He is clearly a happy chap, singing away to himself. He poked around a little and said he would need un radio - (x-ray) and showed me through to another room. Here was a floor-standing apparatus with which I soon became intimately familiar, clenching part of it between my front teeth and gripping other designated parts with either hand. Monsieur le Docteur and his assistant left the room and closed the door, after which the major portion of the equipment roared and whirred and rotated about my head.
The upshot of all this is that the crown won't go back, I need a bridge. This is something I have to look forward to when I get back to England. However, I have a 'panorama numerique' of my head (well, my jaw), which Monsieur le Docteur kindly put on CD for me to give to my own dentist.
He's more machine now, than man.