Do you remember when you were a kid and your mum ordered you to eat your dinner, and your default response was, “I don’t want my dinner, because it’s a potato with mince near it, and looks like an iceberg surrounded by a sewage leak.” And your mum would shout, “Eat your dinner!” Then you’d say, “I’m not eating it! Give it to the cat!” Then she’d point out you didn’t have a cat and you’d say, “I’m not surprised if you want to feed it this.”
To recap, we will no longer be in the EU and although we don’t really know what that means, we can’t stop talking about it.
A long time ago I wrote about our need for a giant annual nursing party.
So, nursing associates (NAs) – an inevitable response to evergrowing staffi ng crisis?
In recent months I have started commuting again. I may have done it for a bet.
These are difficult times for the NHS.
You turn your back for a few weeks and someone steals your health service and replaces it with an unwieldly street market full of rejects from The Apprentice, bartering with each other to see who can win a contract to run cancer care services for £149.99 plus expenses.
OK, so this one’s personal. I lost my mum earlier this year.
As a child I was far too trusting. My father, who didn’t live with me, took me on a day trip to Ramsgate once.
I like open water swimming. If you are wandering along the Brighton coast in the winter and come across a small group of semi-naked people picking their way barefoot across the pebbles to get into the sea, there is a fair chance I will be one of them.