CHRIS BENNETT has spent a few weeks visiting the halt and the lame.
ABOUT a month ago I was a daily visitor to the
A burly young man was in the process of locking the door to the lavatory for men, so I asked him for the key. He rather pompously in formed me that these facilities were for the use of Dr Swallow's patients only.
Now there are times when I am the very cream at the top of the milk of human kindness; and there are times when I curdle, and would cheerfully kick young men who show no respect to their elders in the tennis balls, my liege. This was what you might call a ‘Hank Cinq’ moment.
My gripe, for a gripe it is, notwithstanding my deep admiration for this admirable institution and its similarly admirable staff, is with the image projected. The image not so much as the surliness of youth, as of a hospital that does not care, its core function I would have thought.
I asked to see the manager/administrator/steeringperson to register my dismay. He was a young man, a patient man and a man of some common sense. He appreciated my point; I emphasised that I was more concerned with what the hospital was doing to its own image than anything else, hospitals being what they are these days; understaffed and over worked as few other institutions are.
In a month of visiting this hospital regularly I have encountered the most refreshing, and reassuring, courtesy from the women who man the registration desk, a task which would make Job weep, to the medics – noble to a man, the nursing staff, whose humour and wit, especially on the surgical ward, are hugely appreciated, and the friendly cleaners and sorters out of problems.
I cannot remember when I last encountered such a buoyant and pleasant team of people.
I do, however, and indeed I would, wouldn’t I, have a little footnote to add to this paean of praise, praise richly deserved.
I have reached the conclusion that there must be an angel in charge of the new building operation at the hospital, the busy construction of more suites. The angel is in all probability, I suspect, a saint in waiting: the Blessed Alphaeus Hinge. This young saint has been put to work as an apprentice, and at his canonisation will become St Alphaeus Hinge, Patron Saint of Door Slammers. He excels in his work, believe you me.
In case you were wondering, you may recall the scene with the French ambassador in Henry V. He conveys the Dauphin’s message and gift of treasure for the youthful Henry, both of which were insulting. The young king turns to his uncle, the Earl of Exeter and asks, “What treasure, uncle?”, to which
A bit obscure I admit, but I thought you might enjoy it anyway.
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