Hewitt had gone, unlamented, and there was a spark of hope generated by the appointment of the more reasonable and rational Alan Johnson. And was there not, for a brief moment, a window through which it seemed that Gordon Brown was going to abandon spin and deliver some real improvement?
Oh! Credulous Crippen.
But could I continue to write about the NHS? I had said it all before, and said it so many times. Does anyone listen? Does anyone believe what I say?
Last Saturday, we had a re-union dinner of a group of doctors who have kept in touch since medical school. Some GPs, some consultants, and even a well known medical politician. You would have heard of him. All long-standing friends and all, over the last two years, a constant source of inside-track information. They have been missing their opportunity to vent their spleen through Dr Crippen.
And then, one of those wine-induced dinner-party epiphanies. The Paediatric Professor who we first met in Mrs Crippen’s Vagina said,"You know, if I were suddenly taken ill, I would be terrified to be admitted to a British NHS Hospital."
We went round the table. Each and every one of the ten doctors present felt the same.
It is time to start again.
Excellent! Welcome back, Doc.