No more waiting for Godot!

I have been very pleased to have discovered the joys of owning an electric car. They are smooth, economical, roomy and the one I own, at least, looks the business. Black, naturally, and stylish too. Whatever the time of day and whatever day we were enjoying, plugging my car into the home charger was a task of a few minutes, and I loved the fact it was so much cheaper than filling up with petrol. For over 18 months, there has never been a problem. Last week that changed.

For whatever reason (and more of this in a moment), last Monday at precisely 03.21, my car decided to stop charging. What followed has been a week of sheer frustration in trying to resolve the situation, whilst still commuting to work and dealing with other significant ‘life admin’ issues. I say commuting to work, in the loosest sense of the word. Last Wednesday I climbed out of bed at 04.25, ready to do the animals, walk Dylan the dog, shower, change into my work suit and get to the station to catch the 06.22 train to London.

The train journey down was fast and efficient, delivering me to Euston Station on time. I was in London for an NHS England leadership team, provider CEO and Chairs meeting. It was a very good meeting, albeit the issues discussed and explored were fairly challenging – RAAC, Lucy Letby, the doctors’ industrial action, and dealing with an often hostile media view of the NHS. My only complaint was that we all had to travel to London to attend the meeting. I think, in line with their equality, diversity and inclusion strategy, NHS England should seriously consider holding all such future meetings in the centre of England. That would be fair. 

And where might that place be, I hear you ask? Well in 2002, the Ordnance Survey declared Lindley Hall Farm (Leicestershire) as being the geographical centre of England. The farm is owned by Stephen Farmer (I kid you not). It is about 11km away from Meriden, which traditionally had been thought of as the centre of England. I attach a link for NHS England to use as there are some great meeting places in Meriden, suitable for future meetings, all of which are close to Birmingham railway station. Just a thought.

My return journey was not so good. The train left on time, but very quickly slowed to a crawl as we were diverted behind a slow-moving goods train owing to some emergency rail repair work. Eventually we passed the goods train and were making better time, when suddenly we ground to a halt. Time passed as we waited to find out what had happened. The Train Manager, walking through each carriage, explained that, due to an incident at Crewe, we were having to wait for clearance to proceed. We waited, and waited and waited. Just as suddenly the train started to move, only to stop a few hundred metres down the track at Stafford Station. Here the doors were opened and we all spilled out onto the platform to get some much-needed fresh air.

After nearly two hours, we were all packed onto a different train, which had mysteriously arrived, and after continuing my journey, I was able to get off at Preston Station. Unbelievably, whoever was doing the passenger messaging that evening announced to us all and on social media that the trains were running late due to someone being killed as a consequence of being hit by a train just outside Crewe. Sadly, this person had chosen suicide by train to end their life*. Thinking about this, as I waited for my connecting train, my frustration at the delay was well and truly put into perspective by whatever had been going on in this person’s life that had led to their decision to end their life.

Predictably, and almost inevitably perhaps, the next train I could catch to Blackpool was cancelled. I sat on the platform and waited for the next one. It did eventually come. I got into bed at just before midnight. It was a long day for sure; something I felt even more four and a half hours later as I got up ready for a full day of in-person meetings at my Trust. And I was no closer to getting my car problems sorted.

On the Friday, I was able to get my car to the service department of the car dealer’s garage. They were confident they could fix the problem. They couldn’t. My car’s computer kept saying ‘No!’ Later in the day, (having waited for news) I was contacted to say that I needed to book my car in for diagnostics. So, I travelled to the garage on the bus to pick my car up and get an appointment sorted. It was the end of the school day and the bus was crammed full of excited schoolchildren. I sat next to a young girl, who I could see kept looking at my hat. Eventually she asked if the feathers were real, I said they were, that they had come from my parrot. She said ‘Wow!’ and the smile on her face kept me going for the rest of the journey.

My smile quickly disappeared when I was told that the earliest diagnostic appointment was 31st  October. Unbelievable! And I told the young man so. It was/is a long time to wait, and how would I be able to do all the things I needed to do between now and then? Not their problem, I was told, they were very busy. Okay, I thought. And then I thought, actually, it’s a car; I can catch a train, borrow J’s car, or switch to ‘virtual’ meetings. What about all those folk waiting for an appointment or treatment from the NHS. Most will have no alternative, but to wait. And wait. And wait. And wait.

And that is not acceptable. That person could be you, or me, or someone we love. While the NHS England meeting I attended wasn’t looking for absolute solutions or answers, I was reassured by the collective expressed commitment to keep finding ways to get all those who need to access NHS services, to be able to do so in a timely and appropriate way.   

*The latest data available, which is for 2021, and published last month, show there were 253 deaths by train suicides, which is precisely 253 too many.