People – The life behind the uniform. NHS is its people and everyone has their own life story and unique reason for joining. NHS is full of staff. Many of them well-meaning, some hardworking and a few with skills of the kind that only comes with experience from life. Those you get from having been there, fought and gone through. Qualities that can’t easily be assessed or measured. That …
Humble holiday hints.
Many years ago, a friendly Essex boy offered me useful advice when I navigated my way through nightclubbing in Tel Aviv. “Don’t concentrate on the comedown, mate!” he shouted through deafening beats, pumping out from oversized loudspeakers, as I came crashing in from an oh-so-temporary techno haven-heaven that had just disappeared from somewhere beyond. He became a true and lasting …
England is mine.
Would it be hers? “Are you prepared for your procedure?” Leaning over a laptop on wheels, I echoed the questionnaire on the screen. “Yes,” she laughed, “last anaesthetic I had tea with Michelle Obama.” I looked up; this wasn’t the usual reply. It was an early morning and admission time. Jeans off and gowns on. The people were being transformed into patients. She seemed eager, …
Just messing about.
On my way home from work. It was early evening, still bright and lots of people about. I’m walking to the station. Slight kick-out swagger in my steps, a remnant from earlier days. In the earphones; Public Enemy’s “Harder than you think”, the bombastic UK-hit that never got the attention it deserved in the US. A bunch of black kids coming towards me. Like a shoal of fish, they divide and …
Ode to the Filipinos.
The Filipinos are the best nurses in town. Humble, positive and hard-working – What more could you want? I Love them to bits! But then we go back a long way. Many years ago when out and about as a young man, fresh out of the nest, I stumbled upon their country. They helped me make sense of it all. As young and innocent, I spent the summer holidays with my grandmother. She had a second home …
Brexit – a load of bollocks?
Brexit a load of bollocks? Start to seem that way, does it not? But, before Brexit turned into the Mother of all Messes, I was, dare I say it, quite happy with the vote. Where other people saw racism and small-mindedness, I rejoiced in the Great Nation of Punk’s two fingers up to a smug EU which, institutionally arrogant, didn’t even have a get-out clause until 2009. “Don’t fucking tell …
