Why?

I was just about to go to bed, when I thought I would check the last few emails that had come in. I wish I hadn’t. They told me that Dr. Felicity Harvey CBE, currently Director of the Implementation Unit in the Cabinet Office, would take up the post of Director General for Public Health. She will lead the Department’s public health teams and will work closely with Public Health England, the NHS Commissioning Board and local government.

Now I know nothing about Dr. Felicity Harvey. I am sure that she is a splendid and highly ethical person. However, looking her up on Google, all I could come up with is that she is the director of medicines, pharmacy and industry group at the Department of Health. Forgive me, but to a PH person, this does not look like PH. In fact, quite the opposite. Surely somebody who is leading such an important PH task ought to know something about the subject?

Call me paranoid, but I begin to see a pattern here:

·      The Chief Medical Officer is no longer the head of the medical service, but only of the PH service [you missed that? So did lots of people, but it’s true], yet she has no PH training at all. She is, in fact, a haematologist, an academic, and head of research. How does that qualify her to head up PH? Why was that not a PH job?

·      The post of Director General for Public Health is similarly not defined as a PH job – in fact, it seems to have been given to somebody with more links to the pharmaceutical industry than to PH.

·      The PH input to commissioning NHS services is being totally ignored and down-graded (happy to supply details).

So I ask: WHY:

·      Is the Government determined to side-line PH?

·      Has the Government decided to ignore all PH trained people?

·      Will the Government not listen to a highly trained cadre of people prepared to do their best to make the system work?

Could it possibly be that we have been too honest, too open? That we have been prepared to be constructively critical?

‘Of course not’ I hear you cry.

Just as we were not excluded, together with most of out medical colleagues, from the summit at Downing Street because ‘we would not be constructive’.

This is not democracy. It is a shameful sham.

Those of us who have voted for the Conservative and LibDem parties in the past will not forget. We will not forget that the NHS has been sold to the highest bidder, with no regard to the people of this country.

SHAME ON YOU MR CAMERON AND MR CLEGG

I DO NOT KNOW HOW YOU CAN FACE YOURSELVES

Mr Cameron should read Isaiah Chapter 10

An Extraordinary General Meeting of the Royal College of Physicians today voted overwhelmingly to oppose the Health and Social Care Bill. Only a week after their President attended the shameful ‘summit’ at Number 10, his members have voted to oppose the Bill outright, calling for it to be withdrawn. They join the vast majority of other medical Royal Colleges, including the Royal College of Paediatrics and Child Health, whose President similarly attended that summit.

Only two major Colleges are still providing a modicum of support, the Royal College of Surgeons and the Royal College of Obstetrics and Gynaecology, and both have Extraordinary General Meetings next week. Given the strength of feeling in the medical profession, it is not unlikely that they, too, will be forced into outright opposition.

Meanwhile, back at the Houses of Parliament, the LibDems are busy pretending to save the NHS while voting solidly with the Government. The amendments they claim to have achieved are mere window dressing and will not make the Bill fit for purpose. They are a fig leaf to cover their embarrassing sell–out, but we are not fooled. We really are not that stupid.

And outside, a brave pensioner was carried off the street by the police when she sat down to block the road. The demonstrators outside were certainly not convinced that the Bill has been improved.

As the Good Book says in Isaiah Chapter 10:

 1 Woe to those who make unjust laws, 
   

to those who issue oppressive decrees, 


2 to deprive the poor of their rights 
   

and withhold justice from the oppressed of my people, 
making widows their prey and robbing the fatherless. 


3 What will you do on the day of reckoning, when disaster comes from afar?

I couldn’t have put it better myself. 

Better watch yourself, Mr. Cameron. We shall not forget.

When is a Trout not a Trout?

 

When it’s a salmon, of course!!

I am staying at a conference venue in the middle of England for three very intensive days of work. We start early, finish late and are mentally exhausted. You will not be surprised to hear, therefore, that when we are finally released (for most people at about 7.30 in the evening) we head to the bar and restaurant for some well-deserved rest and relaxation.

The venue is superb. The rooms, though basic, are spotless and roomy. The bed is large and very comfortable, the pillows deep. The staff is friendly and helpful. Last night, four large tables had been arranged in the restaurant for our party. We congregated between 7 and 9, lingering over dinner.

Unfortunately, I was in a tearing hurry because I had a telephone conference to attend. I eschewed the starter, ordered the trout, and prepared to bolt it down in ten minutes. We were a table of ten. When the waitress announced ‘trout’, I put my hand up. A plate was deposited in front of me. I looked at it a little doubtfully. To me, this looked like a salmon fillet. I hesitated, wondering whether to make a fuss. I waited until others were served, wondering whether my trout would arrive under the name of ‘salmon’ and the other recipient and I could smile and swap plates. However, soon we were all served and there was no trout. As I’ve said, I was in a hurry. I ate the salmon, went to my telephone conference, then returned.

A little while later, another colleague joined the table. By now it was late, about half past nine, and the table was only half full. The colleague, I shall call him Robert, sat next to me and prepared to order. He ordered the trout. He is a Scot. I wondered whether to say anything. Eventually I ventured that the fish was delicious, but that I was unconvinced it was a trout. He decided to risk it.

When the fish came, it was unmistakeably salmon. A pink fillet of salmon adorned his plate. No longer bolting food, it was absolutely clear to me, and to everybody else at the table, that this was salmon. Robert said nothing to the waitress and consumed the fish, but our table became increasingly raucous about the trout that wasn’t a trout.

Eventually, the waitress realised what was happening. She came across to enquire. Robert explained, quietly, that we were convinced that the fish that had been served was not trout but salmon. She disappeared back into the kitchen. When she returned, it was with the assurance of the chef that it was most certainly trout.

She must have seen from our faces that we were unconvinced. Our howls of laughter after she left us could also, possibly, have given her a clue. Five minutes later, she approached our table with a fish platter upon which lay a side of ……… fish. Triumphantly, she announced that, as we could see, it was certainly trout.

The fish was two feet long; it had salmon skin, it had fat; it was pale pink. It was a side of salmon. The table had fallen silent. Nobody wanted to upset her. We were incredibly British – we nodded and apologised. We pretended. Then we repaired to the bar and laughed until our sides ached.

It was only this morning that I found myself wondering about the culinary skills of a chef who could not tell a trout from a salmon.

Beef, anyone? Or did I mean pork?

An Accident and a Driving Licence

An Accident and a Driving Licence

 Part One

I have already introduced you to my beloved Prince Rupert, my lovely little sports car. Sad to say, Prince Rupert has a little dent on his behind. It is a tiny scratch and dent, and it is very peculiarly placed, and I shall tell you why.

The incident happened last September. I had been staying at a hotel near Leicester and had to leave early to get to a meeting near Nottingham. I left the hotel shortly after eight (YES – I do think that’s early!!), loaded my case into the boot, opened the convertible roof (had I mentioned that Prince Rupert is a convertible?) and started the engine.

The ‘car park’ was, actually, a wooded area with spaces between the trees. As I was loading the boot, I had carefully taken note of the fact that there was a tree stump some two metres behind Prince Rupert. I remember thinking that this wasn’t very clever, since it would be invisible in a rear view mirror. I don’t know about you, but I don’t routinely walk around my car to check there are no hidden obstacles before driving off. However, happily I had seen it, and there would be no problem.

Ah, you are ahead of me. As I backed up very slowly (I was doing no more than 10mph), there was a tiny bump. I ******. But it was such a tiny bump that I didn’t even bother getting out of the car to check. I KNEW, with absolute certainty, that I could not have done any damage. I even forgot to look when I got to my destination. But as I walked back to the car after the meeting, I could see it, the small but unmistakeable sign of my driving error that morning.

Poor Prince Rupert! However, as I examined it more closely, I became puzzled. The bumper, the most prominent part of the car, was unscathed. The damage was to the top rim of the boot. The more I looked, the more I was convinced that I could not possible have hit the stump – that would have caught the bumper. I can only imagine that there was a branch sticking out of the stump at an angle, which I failed to notice and which did the damage.

However, as I have said, Prince Rupert is the love of my life, so the following week I took him to Mercedes to ask about sorting out the barely visible damage. Imagine my horror when I was quoted £1200!!! Now, I’m not complaining about Mercedes – they are a great company and they make wonderful cars – but I do wonder if the body works shop is not just a smidgeon over-priced?

Let that be. I decided this would have to be an insurance job. And that’s where the real trouble started. I shall complete the tale next time.

I cannot remember ever being this ANGRY

I cannot remember ever being this 

ANGRY

We have just discovered, through the Health Service Journal, that the Prime Minister has called a ‘summit’ in Downing Street on Monday evening to discuss ‘the implementation of the Health and Social Care Bill’.  The guest list, we are told, is selective. There are representatives of GPs, other medical professions, nurses, the third sector and others. The list has not been published.

At first glance, this might sound reasonable to the uninitiated. It isn’t. I am so angry that I think the top of my head might blow off. Why am I so angry? For the following reasons:

1.     The Royal College of General Practitioners (RCGP) has not been invited to the summit. GPs are the doctors who are going to be most affected by the changes this Bill will bring about. They are the ones who will have to implement it on the ground. The hospital specialities will see far fewer changes. So how can anyone consider having a summit to discuss implementation, without including the RCGP? Is it possible that this might have something to do with the fact that the RCGP has been open and honest about its concerns about the Bill, and has recently called for it to be withdrawn?

2.     The other group of professionals whose work will be hugely affected by these changes are those in Public Health, yet as far as I can ascertain, the Faculty of Public Health (FPH) has not been invited either. Could this possibly have something to do with the fact that the FPH also recently called for the Bill to be withdrawn?

3.     The Bill has not yet passed through Parliament and is, indeed, facing stiff opposition. To call a summit at this stage to discuss ‘implementation’ could be construed as undemocratic. Indeed, it might show a total contempt for Parliament. I thought that was against the law.

The only good thing about this is that it smacks of total desperation. It is inconceivable that the discussions will be about implementation; this is all about saving the Bill. The Government knows that it has totally lost the arguments and that only bullyboy tactics will save them now. That gives me hope.

Nye, there are still folk left to fight for the NHS.