I got a penknife and a book on whittling for Christmas from my wife. No, I don’t know what it means either.
Years ago, after I had written something gently sarcastic about nurse leaders being a bit uninspiring and tending to design their actions to please the people above them in the food chain rather than below them, I was “challenged” by one to “stop carping on the sidelines and do something myself”.
Sometimes at the weekend my wife and I will compare items of interest in the news; a battle of the headlines, if you will, to see whose news is most interesting. The unspoken aim of the game is to get the other person to engage with your chosen news item, thus abandoning their own.
“What have you been doing today, Dad?” asked my daughter in an attempt to distract me from suggesting she do her homework. I fall for it none the less.
Minutes of the “What Are We Going To Do About Nursing?” Marketing Focus Group. Private and Confidential.
Is it me or does Jeremy Hunt have the perpetual look of a man who is on his way somewhere else, but keeps being stopped by annoying people and made to do stuff about health? It may have been the case since day one: “Jeremy, we are giving you health.”
A long time ago, let’s call it 1988, I was working on a urology ward in London.
Apparently, astronomers have found another candidate for a habitable planet and, in relative terms, it is not too far away.
So I’m chatting to this nice young man, all youthful energy and floppy hair - him not me - and he’s telling me about his life because I am the only person left in the swimming pool changing rooms and putting his pants on in silence might have been a bit too challenging.
You may have noticed I don’t bang on as often as I used to.