So it’s looking like 6 May, with purdah not falling a second too soon.
No more overview and scrutiny, no more public meetings being used as an opportunity to make political declarations of intent as we humble public servants sit and wait for a question to emerge from a 10 minute diatribe on the evils/benefits of targets and the magnificent gains/lost opportunities of a shed load of investment.
All united of course by an undying commitment to the NHS and a guarantee that nothing whatsoever, ever, will shut, merge or, heaven help us, change.
Which makes actually doing anything rather difficult at the moment. You can’t even sneak a few procurement savings under the wire (“A tissue? A tissue! Snot what the doctor ordered!” -Daily Bugle) or trim the hospitality budgets (“It’s official - Cally Bann’s crackers” - ditto) let alone delete a few vacant posts off the establishment (“Back off the back office” - ditto ad nauseam).
Ah well, best get on with doing those things that have been on the to-do list for 4.5 years:
- Do half a day on the hospital reception desk, and realise that you have absolutely no idea where anything is and immediately order a review of signposting.
- Invite League of Friends in for a cup of tea and a chat, and regret it immediately when all 72 turn up and a fist fight ensues over remaining rich tea biscuit.
- Finish off that article for HSJ that you started writing at the turn of the century about the evils of GP fundholding. Or maybe not.
- Clear out email folders, transferring anything remotely flattering into Blue Monday folder, and read Blue Monday folder 17 times.
- Read Blue Monday folder again.
- Write out four lists of things to do 7 May - a red one, a blue one, a yellow one and a redblueyellow one.
- Bugger off home early.
And if I’m not mistaken, dear readers, the sun is now over the yardarm…