I had an early night last night and was soon fast asleep.
Sadly Bailey didn't come up to bed with me. When she does she settles and I get
some sleep. However when she stays downstairs with “er indoors TM”
and comes to bed later she is so excited to see me she licks my head for half
an hour until she settles (like she did last night). There are some
among my loyal readers who would find this rather sweet, and some who would
find it frankly hilarious. From my perspective it is a pain in the glass (to
coin a phrase). Having been woken I struggle to get back to sleep.
After another restless night I got up and watched more
"Shameless". As I watched I sorted my letter pile. When we had
the kitchen done last year we lost the shelf on which the letter rack sat.
These days the letters just get put in a pile, and when it reaches a foot tall
(quite literally) I go through it, ding out all the envelopes and
recycle the letters. Out of an epic stack of letters I've kept hold of four. I
wish people wouldn't send me post about such utter drivel of the sort that I
dinged out this morning; if anything is of any importance these days I get a
text, email or phone call about it. Letters? It is the third decade of the
twenty-first century after all.
I took a rather circuitous drive to work via fifteen points
of interest (points of interest to anyone who plays Munzee: to anyone else
they were rather dull) and the petrol station.
As I drove the pundits on the radio were talking about how
today was the seventy-fifth
birthday of the NHS, and interviewing all sorts of people about the event.
Expert or gasbag; everyone wheeled onto the radio was of
the same opinion: the NHS cannot carry on as it is without major changes.
However whilst everyone questioned had all sorts of management catchphrases to
offer on the matter, no one had a single practical suggestion.
Being radical (and perhaps a tad reactionary) I
would suggest that major change is the last thing the NHS needs. Having been
working in it since 1981 we've had nothing but forty-two years of major
changes, none of which have had any chance to take effect before being dropped
and the next scheme brought in. All the ideas, schemes and plans were brought
in (and thrown out) on the whim of the prevailing political opinion of
the moment. And at no stage has anyone ever done an independent review to see
if anything worked or didn't work or might have worked had it been given a
chance.
What the NHS needs is to be left alone to get on with it.
I was particularly miffed when Sir Tony Blair had
words to say on the matter. I can remember the fortieth anniversary of the
NHS nine years before he became Prime Minister when many members of staff at
the William Harvey Hospital were wearing black armbands that day as some sort
of strange protest about the perceived state of the NHS back then. I remember
the day after the General Election of 1997 (nine years later) when Sir
Tony was elected as Prime Minister. There was a massive feeling that great
things were going to happen in the NHS. He had thirteen years to sort it out. I
can't remember things changing massively (or at all) under his
control... he’s had his chance and blew it. Too late to be opening his gob now.
I got to work and had a message from someone with whom I
used to work (many years ago). She was closing down her garden pond; did
I want her fish? At the risk of appearing ungrateful I said no. I've got quite
a few fish in the pond already; possibly too many. I can take on some tiddlers,
but not a dozen huge Koi.
If any of my loyal readers are keen, let me know...
In a lull at work I celebrated seventy-five years of the
NHS by filling in some of the forms for my planned semi-retirement next year.
Interestingly a chap I've worked with off and on for over twenty years
announced today that he's retiring later this month.
He summed up my feelings when he said "there comes
a point when you know you've had enough". I think he's right. I
certainly don't dislike my job; I'm currently far happier at my current place
of work than I had been for the previous thirty years. But I'm tired. Going
part time will give me time to get bored with all sorts of other things.
Mind you I’m only semi-retiring. I wonder how many more
anniversaries of the NHS I will see before I finally and completely jack it all
in.
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