A Breakfast Meeting at the House of Lords

This morning, I set my alarm for 0615, an unusual occurrence. I cannot pretend that I leapt from my bed, but it was less difficult than usual to persuade myself to leave its warm comfort and brave the rather chilly charms of a hotel bathroom, because today I had been invited to a Breakfast Meeting at the House of Lords and I have to confess that I was rather excited.

I presented myself at Black Rod’s Garden Entrance (yes, there really is such a thing) at precisely 0800, and joined the chattering queue slowly snaking through security. It was all very good-natured, and slightly underwhelming. Eventually, we were ushered through a courtyard to the Peers’ Terrace. It was impossible not to be impressed by the sheer grandeur of the building. I tried very hard not to gawp like a tourist.

It transpired that most of my fellow guests had been to a considerable number of these events and were very blasé about it all. I was reliably informed that at least the breakfast was good. It was certainly prompt, with orange juice on the tables and coffee being served as soon as I sat down. They gave us the full English, and there were even little pastries.

I was in august company, but sadly I cannot tell you any more about it, because Chatham House rules applied. Not two hours later, I was sitting on a train when a series of tweets apparently reported the entire speech of one of the main speakers. I was a little surprised, until I realised that this was a separate event: have talk, will travel!

The only other thing to say, is that I cannot imagine why they bothered to say that Chatham House Rules applied, since there was nothing said that we did not already know, or at least suspect, and that it did nothing to reassure me about the future of the NHS or the place of commissioning within it. I wish I could say otherwise.