Late November

It is a beautiful day, though raining oak leaves.  They seem to accumulate much faster than I can sweep them so perhaps I will leave that job until the last one drops.

The winter solstice is only weeks away and the spectre of the silly season looms, but even that will soon be over and done with and we can at least begin to think about a new year and hope as always that it will be a better one than this has been.

2016 will go down as a turning point in history. This has been the year when the reality of mortality has been underlined so frequently and those that began the upsurge of celebrity are leaving their oh so public lives behind.  Next year will be no different in that respect  and it is an inevitability that reminds us all of our own limited time.

It has been a year when many of those without a voice found one and were pursuaded that the current system stinks and that it should be replaced; not by a humane and caring government, but by something fundamentally even more evil and divisive.

For me it has been a year of health concerns and hospital visits and tests. I have had everything scanned and proper now and await results still. I have a doctor's appointment next week and then an appointment with the neurologist in December. These things do take time I know and remind me that I am just one patient amongst countless others, many of whom have needs far more urgent than my own.  Part of me wants results, and part of me does not, especially if there is nothing that I can do about what is wrong.

In my job as a teacher, the emphasis shifted towards the end of my career to testing and measuring and assessing anything and everything. Whilst ticking boxes and filling forms made some people happy, it became clear that we were measuring things that could not be changed and this to me seemed an awful waste of time and effort. In terms of health, knowing that there is a problem that cannot be solved only leads to worry and concern.

So life goes on; as some people leave the stage, more enter to take their place, it just seems that in some fields that quality is being replaced by quantity.

This lady left the stage a long while ago and far too soon, but we all have to take our exit sooner or later. Let us make sure that we enjoy the time that we have.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQiWL0HfIJs

Lurching to the right

The world is going mad.  I am convinced that fundamentally people are insane or at least terminally stupid.  We have been manipulated by a right wing government for years now. Even under New Labour the political right were in charge - Blair and his cronies were watered down Tories after all.

So people in the West are tired of the corruption and greed of the capitalist system protected by the right wing, and so what do they do? They shift their allegiance to the far right, blinded by empty promises that things will get better for them. Things will not get better for the majority of people while we have a privileged few owning most of the wealth and being protected by the status quo.

The likes of Farage, Johnson and Trump have cleverly insinuated themselves into the minds of the disenfranchised and led them by the nose into the cesspit of nationalism. We are embarking on a dangerous journey and I fear for the future.  The very idea of Farage as an ambassador would be funny if it hadn't been seriously suggested.  Yes politics, and parliament need a shake up but it seems that everything is in danger of falling apart if these people get their way.

Mark Twain once said "If voting made a difference they would not let is do it."  Maybe he was wrong.

Another night at the opera

Getting to London is easy from here. There are plenty of trains and if you choose your time you can usually get a seat. That part I don't mind, but being in London is for me a bit of a nightmare. I don't handle noise well and am even less comfortable being surrounded by so many people, many of whom are more intent on their phones than they are on where they are going.

It was a short walk from Charing Cross to a nice Mexican restaurant, but the noise inside was almost double that of the outside. Why do some places feel the need to play music at such high volumes? For me it wipes out any hope of conversation or even hearing what the waiters have to say.  The food was nice however and the service very good so we left in plenty of time to walk around to the Coliseum, a venue that I had never been to before. It is sumptuous to look at but the seats are not that comfortable and legroom is sparse,  this is important when you are taller than average.

Tosca was beautifully directed and performed, the orchestra was particularly good.  There were distractions however. For me, the appearance of the lead roles is important if I am to suspend disbelief. Tosca and Cavaradossi were both rather plump to say the least, and without wishing to be fattest, I find that difficult. They both had wonderful voices however and produced the volume that is required in such a huge venue. Their acting was adequate though there were moments when the director seemed to have run out of ideas as to where they should be in musical interludes. Her final leap from the battlements was not a disappointment. She fell backwards, arms outspread into the void and did not bounce back into view.

It was a very worthwhile experience and at fifty pounds a ticket it should have been. The audience profile was not entirely made up of us silver haired retirees but we were the large majority. Like most things, opera is becoming very expensive and unaffordable to many people and that is a shame. Maybe we silver heads are keeping it going at the moment and there will probably be more coming along to replace us,  I hope so.

The journey home was straightforward and the silence of home so very welcome.

A night at the opera

Cosi Fan Tutte is not my favourite of all operas, but the Covent Garden production this week was truly wonderful. To fully appreciate an opera you have to be there, to witness the live production and it's multi dimensionality.  The Royal Opera House is a delight. It exudes class, albeit of a rather fading variety, and provides an experience that only a few of us get to taste.

Mozart's music has stood the test of time and still seems remarkable. His ability to show human emotions through music is remarkable, and and almost packed house on monday night were enthralled, mesmerised and thoroughly entertained by this great production.

Getting there means a train journey and a reasonable walk through crowded London streets, and I find that quite uncomfortable. The number of homeless seems to grow each time I visit, and while there are people struggling to survive, we were indulging ourselves with a meal out and expensive tickets. Yes I felt pangs of something approaching guilt and was reminded of how we as a society are divided, and not just into haves and have nots.

Opera is not to everyone's taste, it is something that may or not may grow on you with exposure, but it does require an ability to concentrate in order to follow a silly story and an ability to appreciate the intricacy of a musical score, and three hours can seem a very long time.

Each new production, requires new interpretations and this was no exception. There were two things that still have be baffled and I would appreciate input on this. During the overture, the cast in full traditional costume took curtain calls, unapplauded,  but acted as if otherwise. The second thing was an illuminated COSI FAN TUTTE was deliberately edited towards the end of the second act, to read COSI FAN TUTTI. The subtlety of which has passed me by.

Beatification

I am sure that the truth about Mother Teresa lies somewhere between Christopher Hitchins' view and that of the political wing of the Roman Catholic Church. Fundamentally she was a human being, and like all human beings, fallible. She had a very good press coverage and a recognisable image. She was a distraction from paedophile priests and other un-Christinalike activities in one of the wealthiest organisations in the world. Her death, refocussed the public eye just where the church did not want it and so what do they do?  

Beatification does not happen too often, as by their own rules, they have to prove that miracles have been brought about. Now it seems that two patients have recovered after she prayed for them. Enough evidence to now refer to her as Saint Teresa.  Does this not seem rather mediaeval?  Does it not demonstrate that the whole process is and always has been a political move?  It does encourage speculation into what they are up to now.

It's a funny time of year

September is here already, the nights are drawing in and the hot spell seems to have strands of chill in  it. Spiders webs are more visible in the mornings and the leaves are showing signs of ageing.

More important than these things, the shops are in a back to school frenzy. For weeks now they have been teasing parents with their advertisements, but now reality is looming large and many parents are so looking forward to getting rid of their kids for five days a week.

As a child, the summer holidays seemed very long and often very warm. We had very few things to look forward to apart from not being at school, and both parents were at work so we made do and created our own entertainment. I am sure there were times when boredom would take hold but by and large there was always something to do in the big outdoors.

As a a teacher the holidays seemed very short and the last week in particular was rather like a sunday night, with the spectre of monday morning sitting on your shoulder.  There will be many teachers out there now feeling the stress building again as they prepare for yet another fun packed academic year. Many will be parents too and will have very mixed emotions regarding the back to school experience. Uniforms will have been outgrown and will need replacing at great cost, equipment will have to be replaced so that their kids are not disadvantaged.

I had a leather satchel; it was given to me by my grandparents when I passed the eleven plus, and I kept it going until I left school seven years later.  I guess it didn't carry much of interest, a few books, a ruler, set square and protractor and maybe a packed lunch. There were no electronic items then, no calculators, no tablets or mobile phones, times were much simpler and in many ways much easier.
Children today have all the material things they want; even the poorer families seem to have mobile phones and computers and of course access to social media and all of the problems that come with that.  In my day social media was limited to graffiti written on desktops with the point of a compass.

So next week children will be squeaky clean, well groomed and dressed, lined up for photos and sent on their way to the next year of their education and mothers will heave sighs of relief along with grandparents who have been in loco parentis for the last six weeks., and the world will get back to normality for a while.

What is the point?

Societies, universally, have rules that have developed throughout history. We appoint lawmakers and law keepers and have systems in place that are supposed to punish or rehabilitate those that choose not to abide by those laws. Without some sort of legal system we would be living in an anarchy and is such a dog eat dog world only the strongest would survive and evolution would kick into reverse.

When a six year old refuses to do as he is told without making a lot of fuss, and then declares that he doesn't like being told what to do by adults there is some cause for concern.  This is a symptom of the way that society at large is changing.  Laws, or rules it would seem are for other people.  This week we have seen a number of tragic drownings around the coast, some due to people choosing to ignore instructions regarding safety in tidal waters.  Go to any beach where there are instructions about where not to swim and you can be sure that there will be plenty who ignore this instructions.

Using a mobile phone while driving is of course dangerous. I need all of my attention on my phone just to make it work and cannot imagine driving whilst using it, but there are plenty who do. It is of course illegal and yet so many flout this law, imagining that they are in some way above it or maybe they believe that they have superpowers and are able to give enough attention to what is going on around them.

The attitude of the six year old is worrying. If he thinks that he can go through life ignoring instructions from adults then he is in for some hard knocks, and maybe that is what is missing these days. There seem to be no real deterrents, no punishments that mean anything. I was taught a valuable lesson when I first went into teaching, and that was, never threaten a child with anything that you do not intend to carry out. It would seem that there are plenty of threats and dest no follow through, and maybe that is why he refuses to do as he is told.

Test results

This week saw the release of GCSE results along with the predictable press coverage. If the results are good then the tests are too easy and if they are not, then the schools are to blame. The press are a pretty loathsome bunch and should never be taken seriously.

I also had some results. For several weeks now I have been dreading the outcome of my scan. I even went away on holiday and thought of little else. On friday the day came to see my GP again; she has been on holiday too so that explained some of the wait.  The previous night we had a long chat about the possible outcome; we both hoped for the best but were prepared for the worst and so the twenty minute sit in the waiting rood seemed an awful lot longer.

We were ushered into her surgery and for a moment she was unsure of why I was there. then it dawned on her that I had not been informed, and she was quick to tell me that the shadows on my lungs were scars from previous infections and that there was no sign of lymph nodes or cancers. My relief was intense, tempered with the fact that I have to have another scan on my lower body. By the time that is done, I will have been very thoroughly examined. I have an appointment for an eeg in London but will have to wait until october for that one and then goodness knows how much longer for some sort of follow up.

So, well done to all those who got good news this week and commiserations to those who were disappointed.

Looking at life

I just got back from a week in Margate. We rented a lovely house in a quiet seafront area and enjoyed a week of wonderful weather with the extended family. Of course we ate too much and drank too much, but there were no arguments and no fights so everyone had a good time.

I have never been to Margate before, and only really knew of it by reputation from the 60s, when every bank holiday it seems there was an invasion by rival gangs of Mods and Rockers who would use the beach and  the town to brawl and terrorise the innocent.

Margate is a lovely place; it looks a little tired, but it has been a holiday Mecca for much of London for a long while, and they still arrive each day in their droves, bravely setting up camp on the sands and purchasing the cheap plastic rubbish that seaside towns seem to have in endless supply. Many will head for Dreamland - a traditional fairground, designed to take away as much tourist cash as possible in the least possible time. Sadly the place is in administration, though still attracting swarms of visitors despite the terrible inefficiencies involved in taking people's money. Queues are the norm and the staff don't seem to care one way or the other, hardly surprising really.

I like to watch people, and it seemed that the world and his wife visit Margate. Probably a good cross section of the outer London population. It was so nice to see huge Asian families in full traditional costumes, picnicking in the heat and surrounded by scantily clad others, slowly grilling in the sun. So many acres of flesh on display, much of it obese, covered in ghastly tattoos and handfuls of sunscreen. What is is about a beach that makes people want to expose their bodies, however unsightly they may be?

On a completely different note, I have had my chest scan and now have an appointment for a scan on my head. I am rather hoping that they find nothing in either; at least nothing that should not be there.

Update

I now know that I have shadows on my lungs.  I was never a fan - preferred Duane Eddy!

Health continued

I saw a neurologist yesterday and answered a lot of questions. He prodded and poked and hit me with his little hammer and made me touch my nose with my eyes shut and wrote down a lot of notes in indecipherable handwriting with an elegant fountain pen.  He talked about temporal lobe epilepsy and has put me down for a CT scan and a sleeping ECG at Kings in London.  After that I will be seeing him again for whatever conclusions he can come to.

Killing two birds with one stone, I also had my chest Xray. There are many advantages to being early in the system and everything yesterday was quick and efficient. We were out of the hospital before my appointment was due to begin.  The Xray technician gave me cause for concern though, she looked at the image and told me that I should see my GP as soon as possible. Now they usually tell you to wait for a few days before making an appointment so clearly there is something amiss.  I have an appointment in just over an hour and so I sit and wait and worry of course, like I have been since yesterday morning.

Ill health has a way of focussing your mind and can become all consuming. I think about mortality, I think about friends who have already gone and I think about the possibilities of pain and suffering. I know that I am naturally pessimistic, but lets face it, I am getting longer in the tooth and am pretty fortunate to have got this far. Anyway I will continue to record this story as long as I am able.

Interesting times

My health seems to be an issue these days and visits to NHS facilities are the norm. I seem to be a bit of a mystery in terms of the symptoms that I present and so I am subject to test after test, and this morning for the first time, the dreaded C word was mentioned.

My GP is a lovely woman and has started to smile every time that I walk into her surgery; maybe I am the equivalent of the Guardian crossword for her as I seem to present her with cryptic problems each time I go in.  This morning I was expecting a run down on the results of my blood tests, which did happen, but what I was not expecting was to have my abdomen manipulated and to have my prostate examined.  She is very thorough, and having a cold finger rammed into me just after breakfast was enough to make my eyes water.  I will say that she was very quick and assured me that all was well in that region. One part of me that seems to be ok comes as a sort of relief.

She went on to tell me that my blood pressure is marginally high and also that my cholesterol levels are marginally high too and that I should consider taking statins.  I have to have a chest X ray next and then there is the possibility of an abdominal scan should nothing show up there.  Life is certainly not boring at the moment, though I would prefer not to see quite so much of the NHS.

Tears

As a child I learned independence at an early age. I also learned to keep my emotions well under control. It was unseemly to display any form of emotion, we were seen and not heard for much of the time.

Last night I cried. I am changing, I know that; inside me things are happening and I do not know what they are, but frequently nowadays I find myself on the brink of tears.  It was a film that triggered it this time. The tree of life tells the story of a relationship between a boy and his father; a father who does not know how to let his son know that he loves him.  The father comes over as harsh and a bully, and the son is incapable of understanding and dealing with the situation. His own love and affection are centred on his mother and he takes out some of his feelings on his younger brother.

There were so many echoes of my own childhood in this movie, and so many long forgotten memories came flooding back. I remember now my parents fighting. They frequently did while we were in bed supposedly asleep, though the house was small and everything could be heard upstairs. I still have no memory of what they were fighting about but can still hear them shouting at each other, my mother in tears and myself hiding under the bedclothes, powerless and clueless too. It seemed to happen a lot and I remember crying myself to sleep, quietly of course, so many times. Eventually you can get used to most things burying the negative thoughts under layers and layers. I learned not to cry, I learned also that I had to escape, and that I would never put any children of my own through the same experiences.

I have no memories of hugs in my childhood. Living at home was mainly about getting through the days. I never had a meaningful conversation with either of my parents; everything was boy appearances. My father was right, it was his house, he paid the bills and that was it. I may be being unfair to him but it is how I felt at the time and those feelings all came flooding back last evening and I was unable to hold back the tears. I felt stupid, but there was nothing I could do to prevent it. maybe it was cathartic but today I don't feel very different and the recently exposed memories are as fresh and newly turned earth.

The film is beautiful. Powerful and moving with little in the way of dialogue. There wasn't much dialogue in our house anyway and maybe that added to the state that I found myself in.

Terry Pratchett said that some people believe that before you die, your whole life flashes before you. It's true, it is called living.

Fakes

I remember a time when plastics were a novelty and then came a time when they were the in thing. Now we are surrounded and becoming buried in the stuff. Things that once were of aesthetic value have been replaced by plastic that has no real value at all.

We live in a counterfeit world, often glued to TV, through which we are bombarded with information, much of which is pure propaganda, generated by the media owners and backers. We become absorbed by programs that allow us to experience vicariously, fake plastic lives. Our politicians, under the glare of the media, cannot speak freely and so adopt personalities that they believe will be acceptable.  We live in a world where appearance is everything. Cosmetics industries are vast and we probably spend more on our appearances than we do on health.  Women in particular are pressurised into being something that they are not.  No-one enjoys getting old, but the cost of preventing the appearance of waging escalates and some will stop at nothing to ward off the ravages of time. Breast implants, botox treatments, and enhancements of virtually every body part are available  at a cost and I won't even start on clothing.

Images in magazines are often photoshopped, enabling anyone to shed years with a few pixel manipulations. Make up and hair treatments also mask what really lies beneath, to the extent that we cannot believe anything that we see.

Political campaigns are base on anything but the truth. The truth seems to be whatever a political party wants it to be. The recent referendum was an example of this, the successful side basing their drive on fear and a hatred of foreigners. It worked.

Plastics are made from oil and as such contain a lot of carbon. This is effectively sequestered for decades, if not centuries as most are not easily degraded.  The oceans are riddled with the waste plastic that we don't have the wits to deal with properly and so wildlife suffers.  In turn we will suffer but it seems that most people couldn't care less. We are taught to consume, and to live for the day, to put on fake faces and to ignore reality. We do so at our peril.

England

I watched the game last night. Experiencing England playing is like having surgery without anaesthetic and also having to watch it.  It was a poor performance at best and Iceland did very well; their style of football much less predictable and refreshing to watch.  The English team let their fans down is so many ways; some have paid a small fortune to attend the games and to indulge in their ceremonial jingoism, some even having gone to the trouble to beat hell out of rival fans. Nothing like a few scars to bring home as souvenirs.

Our football players have inflated egos as well as salaries and see themselves as something special. They are paid a lot of money and when the chips are down they fail to perform. You can blame the coach but the reality is that the team are no good. A team is more than the sum of the parts; egos get in the way and that is why Iceland were by far the better side.

2016 has been a dreadful year so far, so many good people have died and now we are witnessing the death throes of English football along with democracy, the labour party and common sense.  An historic year and so far for all the wrong reasons.

Class

The word class is coming back into fashion. I have seen many references this week to the term Class Traitor, relating to the chaotic state of the labour party and the alleged organised coup against their leader.

I am reminded of the  wonderful sketch with John Cleese and the two Ronnies. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K2k1iRD2f-c

Upper class, middle class and lower class seems to have blurred a little since the sixties, though underneath the divisive categorisation still exists.  The upper classes still exist, detached from the rest of us and from reality supported by sycophantic followers who consider them a wonderful thing. The real blur lies between working class and middle class. I always considered myself to belong to the working class; I was brought up in a council house and my father worked in a factory. Then I became a teacher and overnight my classification changed in the eyes of society, if not in my own. Surely those who work for a living should all be part of the same group if we are to have such ridiculous classification.

The labour party was born from a need to protect the rights of working people. It represented them and was backed by trade unions, without the unions and the labour party, working people would have far fewer rights and lower incomes than they have today. Naturally the capitalist elements of society abhor the unions and Labour party alike and have been undermining these organisations since their inception.

Now the working class are abandoning the labour party and incredibly they are flocking towards an ultra right wing UKIP, in the mistaken belief that they will in some way be better off.  It seems likely in the light of our exit from Europe, that many companies will be leaving the UK and jobs will vanish along with them. UKIP will not want an increase in benefits and so the working man will be consigned to the scrap heap again.  Meanwhile the upper classes carry on as normal.

At the end of the day we are all the same, we are human beings, though some by accident of birth are more privileged than others.  Without a moderating influence though we are returning to the dog eat dog world of the past.  Sad days indeed.

Results

Well it is done and dusted and now we await the fallout and the consequences of going it alone. A small majority has decided that we should break our ties with Europe and stand alone in the world.
It would seem that the motivation to leave has been complex. Immigration seems to have played a significant role as has dubious statistics regarding the amount that we pay into Europe. Some believed that that money will now be ploughed into the NHS or used to fund pensions or to benefit ordinary people, but of course that will not happen.

I do not pretend to understand the complexities of our membership of the European community, nor do I grasp the full implications of going it alone; I suspect that most people are in the same position. I do feel though that we are embarking on a dangerous journey, with a population seriously divided and becoming even more disenfranchised and disillusioned with the system that we have. We call it a democracy, but it really is a bit of a sham. A large and significant proportion of our population vote according to the wishes of the tabloid press and the media in general. Most of which is owned and controlled by the political right. They had done a good job of destroying the Labour party, and the Liberals died a death when they became Lib Dems. UKIP is on the rise and the electorate will have to choose between the far right and the ultra far right. That is not really much of a choice for the majority of the people but it is realistically what we have to face up to.

Party politics is no longer working and yet we still go through the motions of electing representatives, who in the main represent their own self interests.  To go against their own party is political suicide and so they don't.

I feel for our future generations, whose horizons have shrunk almost overnight. The value of the pound continues to tumble and more and more companies are considering relocation to mainland Europe. There are increasing attacks on foreigners as we sink into the quagmire generated by Farage and Johnson.  It is possible that Scotland and Northern Ireland will go their own way and stay in Europe, leaving us stranded like seals on a mid atlantic outcrop.  I hope that I am wrong.

Goodbyes

Yesterday I attended a memorial service for my boyhood best friend.  I was best man at his wedding, and so this was the second time that I had sat in the same church.

I am not one to feel comfortable in churches but sometimes it is necessary to show respect and love to those who have died, or at least to their families and friends.  As always the building was old, steeped in history and overwhelmingly gloomy.

I last saw Martin last autumn. He had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and was in considerable pain.  He managed however to be himself, the old Martin that I had spent so much time with as a boy was still there and we had a lot of laughs. Even then I knew that it would be the last time I saw him.

The church was filled to capacity and beyond; people stood at the back and every pew was filled. I have never seen a memorial service so well attended. Martin was clearly loved and remembered fondly by a lot of people.

The service began with Albatros, by Fleetwood Mac. An old favourite from the late sixties, and a song that I will never be able to dissociate from his memory. The rest was readings from his family and friends along with the usual religious reading and hymns,   which passed over my head as is usual.

There were several people there that I had grown up with and it was so nice to see them again after so many years. But I did wonder which of us would be next. It feels like standing on an escalator and getting closer and closer to the top - or maybe the bottom. Life is nasty brutish and short, so the saying goes, it certainly feels that way today.  Cheers Martin - Happy times.

Conflict

So very sad to hear about the awful massacre in Orlando. I am tempted to say that it was a mindless act but that is unlikely. The perpetrator was acting according to his belief and that is far more scary than imagining a mindless act.

I cannot imagine any of my beliefs making me want to harm another human being, let alone murder dozens of fellow human beings, and yet every day we hear of senseless barbarity being perpetrated in the name of a belief.

As a species we are divided in so many ways. We are divided by national borders, by colour, by religion, by gender  and by political persuasion and it is the divisions that seem to dominate and dictate world events.

There also has to be someone to blame when things go wrong. The FBI are under scrutiny now for not recognising the perpetrator as a threat, his family, if he has one may also be held culpable, but it is doubtful that the authorities will put any blame onto his beliefs; to do so would be to threaten a very fragile stability and to fall into the hands of the likes of Donald Trump who see the very existence of foreigners in his country asa a threat.

Fundamentalism of any sort is dangerous, but they all have roots. Most of the terrorist activity that we hear about has the same roots, and it seems that the roots are growing very comfortably with new shoots and suckers popping up everywhere.  The war on terror is not succeeding and each act is simply driving wedges into an already stressed situation.

We are rapidly approaching a referendum in which all eligible will be able to vote on a monumental decision and yet most of us have no real clue as to possible outcomes. It seems that the big issue for many is that of immigration.  Most will vote on purely selfish grounds, their decision being led by their belief, which in turn has been manipulated by the media machine. Few will give any consideration to the future and the implications for their children and grandchildren. The likelihood is that we will be leaving Europe in the hope that we can become great again. Echoes of Donald Trump and his nationalism that seems to be whipping his supporters into a Nuremberg-like frenzy.

If we go it alone, it is likely that we will become as insignificant as countries like Canada, and will be in the hands of the Tory party for decades to come.  May your God help us.

NHS

It is somewhat disconcerting when a GP tells you  that the NHS is fucked. Yes she used those exact words. She is young and looking to do something else with her skills and talents; whether she can find anything that pays as well remains to be seen.

I have had a lot of contact with the health service throughout my life; I have spent a lot of time in waiting rooms and in wards, the prospect of repeating the latter terrifies me now.

Getting appointments to see a GP is pretty hard. They seem to have endless lists of patients, each of which is probably a bundle of issues that can only present one problem in the allocated ten minutes. There was a time when GPs at least pretended to be interested in the patient rather than the problem but maybe that is just me. Much of my childhood was spent in the hands of the NHS, and although I remember a lot of waiting around, I always felt that someone cared.

The modern NHS is now in the hands of managers, with the structure being tiered; managers appoint underlings and so on, jobs are manufactured as the whole thing becomes a business ready for a takeover by the private sector.  Hospitals are no longer friendly, welcoming places. They are anything but. Car parks charge a fortune and retail outlets abound. Far more employees are there to run the building than to care for patients and the salaries of those in high office bleed the purse.

We are in danger of losing a wonderful service that we have all paid for and made use of, and that many of us owe our lives to. The current government is made up of many wealthy people who have interests in private health care and would love to give away the whole thing so that their friends can profit from it.