It was the kind of timing you think only happens in films. Our family had gathered on the Kent coast for Christmas. It was 1pm on Christmas Day, the turkey was ready, the roast potatoes were perfect, the sprouts gently steaming. My signature cranberry sauce (prosecco is the magic ingredient) was on the table.
It was at this moment that it became clear that my husband, who had not been feeling well, was getting worse. The news had been saturated by NHS woes, delays, strikes, horror stories. But there was nothing for it: we had to call an ambulance.
One hour and forty minutes later it arrived, and we were on our way to Conquest Hospital in Hastings where, after a series of tests, my husband had an emergency op on Boxing Day and is now recovering well.
This is the story of the ambulance that did come on Christmas Day. It can be easy to forget that the NHS is full of such everyday miracles. The system may be creaking but it has the ability, skills, expertise and a caring spirit that saves — and changes — lives.
Purple haze
I have spent the past week in what I call Purple World — the Premier Inn, Hastings. I have few illusions about hotel life, having had to stay in them so often for party conferences when I was a sketchwriter. The key is not to expect too much. The idea of a “spa area” sounds glam but the reality is chilly with a whiff of mould. Room service is often a disservice. Avoid.
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I admire the way the Premier Inn sticks to its script: clean, inexpensive (£50ish), good beds, quiet, helpful. The hotel is plastered with posters headlined “Guide to Kindness”. Is it a sign of our times that such things must be spelt out?
Seventies stonewalling
Watching the TV drama Stonehouse, I was struck by how John and Barbara Stonehouse seemed to conduct their entire marriage while reading broadsheet newspapers, which they used as shields, occasionally shaking out a page before peeking round it to say something wildly passive-aggressive. The modern equivalent, looking at your phone, is no match.
Tea Rex
I interviewed Fay Weldon, who has died aged 91, about 25 years ago for the Times Educational Supplement. She had written a children’s book called Nobody Likes Me! and I found her on her green and gold sofa in Hampstead contemplating a picture of a lighthouse on the back of the book. “Oh, that really is rather phallic,” she murmured with a laugh.
Weldon, celebrated if controversial feminist, was on maddeningly enigmatic form. The book is all about a boy named Rex and his mum who, I noted, seemed rather glamorous in her clickety-clack silver sandals. Weldon wasn’t having that. “She is ever so slightly horrific, because mothers are. It’s all quite terrifying.” So where’s the dad? “Oh, he’s at work.” Did the mum work too? “Oh no. She’s a very frivolous mum. She can’t stand the little boy.”
The highlight of our exchange came when she asked, suddenly: “Are there any cannibals in the book?” No, I said. She announced that there were in a former version. “Rex is left on a desert island and the cannibal asks him to tea. But then Rex realises he is going to be the tea. My editor talked me out of putting that one in.” I can’t think why.
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Hate speech
Thank you for your “most hated word” entries, which will be featured over coming weeks. This week it is David Carlisle’s turn with “iconic”, which is “hideously overused”. “I am very sad to find that even Radio 3 has sunk to using it,” he writes. The Times style guide couldn’t agree more about what it calls “the ghastly adjective”.
