Saturday, 21 July 2012

Two-tier justice for Commonwealth soldiers?



http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/defence/9417871/Commonwealth-soldier-kicked-in-the-teeth-by-Britain.html


http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/defence/9417867/Commonwealth-soldiers-face-deportation.html 

THIRTEEN years service, five operational tours, four medals - and a fifth offered alongside news from the Home Office that he has to leave the UK. 


Bale and Kim Baleiwai came to the charity Veterans Aid in despair - and help to bring their plight to public attention. The Sunday Telegraph, BBC Radio 4 and Channel 4 News took up their case. They are a close, happy family who have made personal sacrifices during Bale's distinguished Army career. And all because a misdemeanour in the Army that was dealt with summarily in a 10-minute meeting with his CO has translated into a criminal record. This migration of transgression applies only to Foreign and Commonwealth service personnel. 


Discriminatory? Undoubtedly. 


We live in an odd world when a drunken Army veteran who happens to be an MP starts a punch-up in the Commons bar and doesn't even lose his seat, while a former Fijian Lance Corporal provoked into a short scuffle faces separation from his wife and children with only days to prepare. The so-called 'military covenant' has a way to go in terms of meaningful provision for those it purports to protect.


For more see:


http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2105180/Eric-Joyce-Labour-MP-arrested-bar-brawl-inside-House-Commons.html


http://www.channel4.com/news/should-f-c-soldiers-whove-been-disciplined-be-deported


http://www.veterans-aid.net

Tuesday, 19 June 2012

78 Perspectives by Tom Stoddart

www.78perspectives.com



South Sudan - (c) Tom Stoddart 2012

Perspectives Photographic Exhibition


(For more information email me directly on glyn@78perspectives.com - and if you want to upload Smartphone or iPad media directly go to http://78perspectives.com/my-perspectives/ - where we will post YOUR perspectives on TOM'S perspectives! - Glyn)


Perspectives, an exhibition of images by award-winning photographer Tom Stoddart (www.tomstoddart.com), will be held at one of London’s prime South Bank sites from 25 July – 11 September, throughout the Olympic and Paralympic Games.
Seventy-eight of Stoddart’s signature black and white pictures will form a free, open-air display at More London Riverside, between City Hall and HMS Belfast.
During his distinguished career Stoddart has travelled to more than 50 countries and documented such historic events as the fall of the Berlin Wall, the Siege of Sarajevo and the election of Nelson Mandela as South Africa’s first black president.
His acclaimed in-depth work on the HIV/AIDS pandemic blighting sub-Saharan Africa won the POY World Understanding Award in 2003. In the same year his pictures of British Royal Marines in combat, during hostilities in Iraq, was awarded the Larry Burrows Award for Exceptional War Photography. A year later his book iWITNESS was honoured as the best photography book published in the USA.
Now established as one of the world’s most respected photojournalists, Stoddart works closely with Getty Images to produce features on serious world issues.
He said,
”The world’s nations will soon be joined together in a wonderful sporting festival whose motto is ‘swifter, higher, stronger’. I hope that people visiting the exhibition will leave with a greater determination to understand and help those with little access to clean water, food and medicines who, through no fault of their own, cannot run more swiftly, jump higher or be stronger”.
Perspectives has been created with the participation of the International Committee of the Red Cross ICRC, featuring photographs taken by Tom Stoddart for the Health Care in Danger campaign.
www.78perspectives.com

Saturday, 26 May 2012

A Really Crappy Job?

OK - this is from Wiki and may be a crock of the proverbial, but it is SO worth a read!

For all those who like getting their hands dirty Op TAMARISK must have represented the ultimate challenge.

"Operation Tamarisk was a Cold War-era operation run by the military intelligence services of the US, UK and France through their military liaison missions in East Germany, that gathered discarded paper, letters, and rubbish from Soviet trash bins and military maneuvers, including used toilet paper.


As described in The Hidden Hand by Richard Aldrich on page 414, it involved starving the Soviets of loo paper. This led them to use official documents as a 'substitute'.

The US, UK and the French then used their spies to retrieve the documents as the paper was not soluble and was put into bins.

The spies actually complained to their handlers that they had to go through the bins that contained fecal matter and even amputated limbs in the case of hospital rubbish bins. When the spies told their handlers this, the handlers immediately asked them to bring back the limbs as well so they could study what type of shrapnel the Soviets were using.

According to Tony Geraghty, 'to tamarisk' was BRIXMIS jargon for "sifting through the detritus of military exercises". This included extracting shrapnel from tissue disposal sites at hospitals and salvaging documents used as toilet paper where no actual toilet paper had been issued, but also less disgusting finds such as a discarded personal notebook containing technical drawings.

Apparently Tamarisk has been described as 'one of the most successful espionage operations in the entire cold war.'

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Tamarisk

Saturday, 31 December 2011

From Rock to Clock


The 30-year-old soldier sitting opposite me is not homeless. He has no alcohol or drug problems. He is not in debt and he enjoys physical and mental health. He didn’t come to the charity Veterans Aid to seek help, but to offer it.

Captain Edouard ‘Ed’ Plunkett (Queens Royal Lancers) – is an Army officer who has served in Cyprus, Canada, Iraq and Afghanistan.  As a Troop leader and Squadron 2IC he has had responsibility for men’s lives and wellbeing. As a soon-to-be civilian he knows that a few will struggle without the structure of the service family to support them. A few more will struggle for other reasons.

Plunkett is matter of fact about what the Armed Forces offer and what frontline service in particular involves. As Second in Command, Brigade Reconnaissance Force (QRL) he has had responsibility for the career management and training of 105 officers, senior NCOs and men. Plunkett and his troop spearheaded a major offensive against the Taliban over a seven-month period. In that time he witnessed first hand the effects of IEDs, losing limbs or having them mangled beyond use. He knows how long the physical rehabilitation process takes, the seemingly endless operations, hours of physio and subsequent shuttling between medical facilities at Headley Court and Selly Oak hospital, following friends and colleagues through their recovery

Military service is not for life. At some point all servicemen and women – injured or not - find themselves out of the Armed Forces and re-branded as ‘veterans’, a label they will wear until they die. In this capacity responsibility for their wellbeing passes into the hands of the Welfare State and the 3,000 charities that offer help and support to those who have served. At the cutting edge of these is Veterans Aid.

On 31 January Plunkett plans to embark on a venture to raise fund for what he describes as ‘the welfare model for life after the Army’. At the beginning of February he will cycle from Gibraltar to Hereford, covering 1,583 miles through Spain, over the snow laden Pyrenees, up through France and more snow. He plans to take the ferry from St Malo to Portsmouth and finish at the memorial clock in 22 SAS Camp outside Hereford, in March.

So why Veterans Aid?

“It’s just the nature of the charity” says Plunkett. “The work it does is lost on most people. They think about the ‘here and now’, see the casualties of current conflicts, not the welfare of the individuals’ long term in life after service. There is publicity about PTSD – and it is a problem for some people – but case by case everyone who leaves the Army is different.”

CEO of VA Dr Hugh Milroy points out that there are more than 5 million veterans in the UK, men and women of all ages. “Most transit seamlessly from service to civilian life, but a small minority, for a variety of prosaic reasons, end up in crisis. And it’s a myth that military service actually causes subsequent misfortune.

“Life in Britain today is hard – for everyone. Veterans are not a  ‘protected’ species, but they are a resilient breed with a  very family ethos. And that’s what this charity is about – veteran helping veteran; with debt, relationship breakdown, mental and physical health problems, and addictions. Whatever the problem, we are here to help.”

The charity survives and flourishes because of its supporters, from ‘official’ funders like ABF-The Soldiers Charity to individuals like Ed Plunkett who learn about its work and are inspired to do something personal to contribute to it.

Plunkett’s team will include his future brother in law Rob Kendall – a civvy – and, at some stage, fitness permitting, one or two of the lower limb amputees from his unit.

“ They are still receiving treatment so we’re keeping a watching brief at the moment. The current plan is for them to join us when we cross the Channel and complete the last phase of the cycle ride to Hereford. It’s a colossal challenge but our aim is to raise £10,000 for Veterans Aid. 

“On 9 May 2010 in Helmand province Sergeant Andrew ‘Mandy’ Carlton was involved in a PPIED (Pressure Plate Improvised Explosive Device) incident in which two servicemen received critical injuries.  He lost his left leg below the knee and suffered extensive damage to his remaining leg.  He has since taken every opportunity to overcome his disability and I would maintain that he is almost as agile as he was before his loss! We really hope he can join us.

 “We think Veterans Aid is a fantastic and inspirational charity. It supports ex-servicemen and women who have fallen on hard times, and are in dire need of food, shelter, clothing, psychological support and/or stability.”
Although a fit individual, Plunkett has only recently taken up cycling and the area around his current base (Catterick, North Yorkshire) has provided excellent training facilities.  “However much we train I expect the first week will be hard; that’s when we will really cut our teeth, develop sores, aches and pains. The Pyrenees will be the real challenge and it’s the obstacle that we’re most psyched up for”.
There will be no ‘soft landings’ after that though – the two men plan to camp rather than waste money on hotels, putting Plunkett’s experience as expedition leader through the Jebel Akhdar and the Wahiba Sands of Oman to good effect. “We will make the occasional ‘wash stop’ to clean up our kit though!”
His Just Giving page (http://www.justgiving.com/rocktoclock) has already attracted donations of more than £1,300 and words of encouragement from supporters.
And Plunkett’s fiancé Henrietta “Well, she’s not over the moon about this, just six weeks before the wedding, but she understands why I am doing it,” he laughs.
*Veterans Aid plans to keep in touch with Ed and Rob via email as they cover the 1,583-mile route, blogging on BFBS (http://www.bfbs.com/news/blogs/veterans-aid%E2%80%99s-blog-20133.html) and posting pictures of the pair at various stages of their journey. You can also follow their journey on Facebook and Twitter.
Donations to their Just Giving site can be made at any time. Media interviews arranged through media@veterans-aid.net or by calling Glyn Strong on 07806 920087.
A video appeal from Ed and Rob can be seen on (*To follow)

Monday, 5 December 2011

The right place at the wrong time

http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/standard/article-23969165-peers-wife-i-hid-in-cupboard-as-taliban-searched-hotel.do




In 2011 NATO initiated Inteqal – the process of transition of security responsibilities from ISAF to the Afghan state and its forces. It was launched on the assumption that the Afghan Army, Police and governance system, at national and local level, would have progressed to the point where handover was tenable. President Karzai formally announced transition arrangements to the Afghan people and in March it was welcomed in a joint statement by Foreign Secretary William Hague and Defence Secretary Liam Fox.
NATO aims to complete the transition by 2014, reducing its military presence but retaining a ‘footprint’ in the country beyond that date. Since the announcement of Intequal Osama Bin Laden has been killed – and ‘talks with the Taliban’ have rarely been off the agenda.  Heady stuff – but what do these events mean to Afghanistan’s female population? One British woman went to find out. This is what happened to her.

Fiona Hodgson and her friend walked out of the bloody siege of the Intercontinental Hotel in  Kabul wondering how they had escaped death.

They’d survived the bloodbath in which Taliban gunmen killed 11 people by hiding in a cupboard while slaughter and mayhem took place around them.

Fiona had gone to Afghanistan to connect with women’s organisations and activists and  see for herself what women’s hopes and fears were about transition and its security implications for half the population.

In February this year a travel reviewer wrote of the ‘Intercon’ -  “There are often large official events because of its secure location and plentiful armed guards. There have been no Taliban attacks and the last major incident was a shoot-out in 2003. So, by Kabul standards, it is very safe.”

For those who know the Afghan capital this is not such a surreal recommendation, but when I watched my friend walk out of this ‘safe’ hotel on a TV news channel I was stunned. As the story of the siege and suicide bombing unfolded I knew she was physically unharmed, but it wasn’t until she arrived back in London that I understood how close to death she had been.

Fiona and her companion from Action Aid spent nearly six hours in hiding listening to the sound of gunfire, explosions and screaming just yards away from them.

 “I honestly thought we were going to die,” she recalled. “My heart seemed to be pounding so loudly I felt the gunmen could surely hear it.”

So how did this Kensington mother of four find herself at the epicentre of a bloody siege? Call it displaced guilt, but I feel (very slightly) to blame!

We met a few years ago when I had just returned from a trip to Helmand. Fiona was then Chair of the Conservative Women’s Organisation and already alert to the plight of Afghanistan’s women. From our different perspectives, but with shared interests, we joined forces to co-author The Female Face of Afghanistan, a series of largely unedited opinions from a diverse range of contributors. Fiona became very keen to visit the country, meet some of the women and hear first hand how they felt.

We talked about going together but could never quite co-ordinate it so travelling independently, at her own expense, she went alone. First stop was Kabul where she stayed with Ana Hozyainova, a founder member of the Afghanistan Public Policy Research Organisation.  Seven days, eighteen meetings, several private visits and a joyful Afghan wedding party later, her nightmare began.

Over tea in the garden of her West London home Fiona re-counted the most frightening six hours of her life. In this most English of settings, with Monty the family dog chewing his favourite toy at our feet, a story of horror, courage  - and even occasional humour  - unfolded.                    

“Ana helped me meet some wonderful women in Kabul – mostly from NGOs, activists, former refugees and even a TV presenter. My admiration for these women grew as the week progressed but they are very, very worried about transition. There is generally enormous alarm about what would happen if the Taliban came back.

“Some said they would leave; one said she would get a gun and flee to the hills.  A particularly impressive group was Young Women for Change – aged mainly in their early 20s. One told me ‘It would be like slow death’. They know that activism identifies them but feel they have no alternative and quote the depressing proverb ‘Afghan women belong in a house or a grave’ as their spur.”

On the eve of the suicide bombers’ attack Fiona left Ana’s quiet home in a residential district for the Intercontinental Hotel where she was to meet her new hosts.

“The Action Aid representative had flown out that evening. I was tired but excited and looking forward to the next part of my stay. We were due to leave for Bamiyan early the next morning and had a full programme.”

After a buffet dinner with members of the Action Aid team and Kabul MP Shinkhai Karokhail, Fiona and her friend retired early to their rooms on the second floor. The hotel is on a hilltop and Fiona had left her curtains open to look at the panoramic view of Kabul.

Then the gunfire started. She crawled to turn her bedside lights out before cautiously leaving her room. “I remember there was a man in the corridor, his body language was all wrong – he turned and looked at me, his arm flapping, then he ran past me. I knew then that something was going on and banged on my friend’s door.

“I don’t know why but I said ‘we’ve got to get into the cupboard’ – it was behind the door to the room which would swing back against it. And so we sat there, in the dark, still dressed in the clothes we’d worn to dinner while the firing continued. We rang the Action Aid security officer who had only recently left and he said he’d come back for us straight away.”

But it was to be nearly six hours before the women were able to leave.  Huddled in the confined space they heard shooting above them, on the ground floor, in the stairwell and along their own corridor. At first they thought it was the hotel security team fighting off attackers.  The shouting was harsh, aggressive and close, but incomprehensible.

“We put our phones on silent because we were terrified of being discovered,” recalled Fiona whose strangest moment was seeing a call come in from her husband Robin. “ I decided not to take it. Then he sent a text – and I replied saying that I was fine. I didn’t want to worry him.”

A man whose calls she did take was to prove a rock that night. “I suddenly remembered that we had registered our visit to Afghanistan with the FCO and had a number to call at the Embassy ‘in emergencies’.

“Rather hesitantly I rang it, thinking how mad I would sound saying ‘Hello, this is Fiona Hodgson; I’m in the wardrobe of Room 206 in the Intercontinental Hotel’ .”

The man at the Embassy did not laugh however, he simply asked for details. “He was wonderful; very professional and calm and as the night went on it was reassuring  to have him to talk to. Sometimes he asked us to leave the phone on so that he could hear what was happening, but he told us not to move until someone official came for us.”

Alternately whispering and lapsing into silence the two women strained to hear what was happening; the gunfire was intermittent but the stillness too was threatening. Then the unimaginable happened - it got worse.

“Suddenly we could hear doors being kicked in and shots. Then the helicopters came and the most massive explosions. The hotel rocked and we felt the floors below were giving way. We’d no idea what was going on. We were past thinking and in extreme terror. Later we learned that the explosion above us was what set the hotel on fire. We felt helpless but between us we managed to hold it together!”

A loud knock and a voice in broken English told the women to come out. “But we were beyond movement until the man on the phone ‘instructed’ us that it was alright. I slid the door open and put an arm out first, then went into the corridor where there was an Afghan soldier and a line of people.  A New Zealand Special Forces soldier met us at the stairwell, we went through the lobby and into the kitchen.”
                                                                                                                                
At last they were allowed to leave. “Dawn was coming up and we just walked down the hill towards the police checkpoints and past them. I still didn’t feel safe; I feared there could be gunmen in the bushes but when we got to the second police barrier the Security officer from Action Aid was waiting for us. He had been there all night.”

He drove the women to a rendezvous with the Embassy vehicle where they were provided with body armour. Fiona laughed. “I thought ‘we could have used this last night’!”

The journey home was not comfortable for either woman. Luggage at Kabul airport suddenly looked sinister; the clatter of suitcases pulled along a hotel corridor in Dubai sounded like gunfire. While we spoke in Fiona’s garden sudden noise on a nearby construction site made her twitch.

At Gatwick the women were met by their husbands and the CEO of Action Aid. Fiona said “They took us to a quiet room and that was when I was able to tell Robin the full story. I‘m fine talking about it all, but perhaps part of me is in emotional lockdown. So as for how I really feel – I don’t know. For a while I was numb. It’s OK for me – I can get on a plane, but for the people I’ve left behind, it’s different. So many women are psychologically damaged, so many are fearful. No woman will vote for the Taliban. ”

After Fiona’s return I spoke to Afghan journalist Bilal Saraway in Kabul. He said  “The gunfire could be heard by residents in all the surrounding neighbourhoods and it has shattered confidence in security. Everyone is asking how this could have happened. What was pretty upsetting was that the Minister of the Interior had been warned of a possible attack and despite that they were able to get in through the back entrance, past a police checkpoint.
First to die was a hotel driver and an old guard who had worked there for more than 50 years.”

Saraway added “There were renovations going on in the main lobby which may account for the lack of security, but people are asking senior police how it is they managed to take in so many heavy weapons – nine people are understood to have had RPGs while the Afghan police were only lightly armed with AK47s.

“It’s clear too that the attackers were prepared for a long siege; their backpacks contained cans of Red Bull and biscuits. But if there is a positive aspect to this, it is that the Police Chief arrived straight after the attack; local forces did well.”

Fiona echoed this. “I don’t blame anyone; we were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Everyone was wonderful – Action Aid, the Embassy staff, the Afghan police/army and the New Zealand Special Forces. I just feel so very sorry for those who lost loved ones or did not survive.

“Will I go back? I hope I have the courage to return and finish what I set out to do. I don’t want this tragic incident to overshadow the real issues, Afghanistan’s women must not be forgotten. We can help them in all sorts of ways, through networking and information hubs as well as practical support. Women must be involved in the peace process in a meaningful way and not just as window dressing. ”

Her companion doesn’t want to be identified but added "The best way to ensure that the rights Afghan women have gained over the last 10 years are not swept away is to make sure that women are at all peace and reconciliation negotiations and are able to represent their interests. This is their right, but it is also the only route to a just and lasting peace. Any deal that excludes women does not deserve the name of peace."

So, as the Intequal process takes it’s course all eyes should be on those women and the West’s ears open to their very real concerns about a return to the ‘ground zero’ of human rights abuse in Afghanistan. To many, exhausted by the demands of yet another long engagement in a country where no-one has ever ‘won’ a war, the death of Bin Laden might signify ‘mission accomplished’. If it leaves Millennium Development Goals for Women unaddressed it will be a job far from done.

ENDS

Lady Fiona Hodgson is a member of the Conservative Human Rights Commission and the Chair of the Advisory Board of GAPS:  (Gender Action in Peace and Security), President of the National Conservative Convention and former Chair of the Conservative Women’s Organisation. She is also a patron of Afghan Connections.  She is the wife of former Tory MP Lord Robin Hodgson.


Wednesday, 30 November 2011

Off the grid

A couple of weeks ago I left my London flat to go to a meeting.

Five days later I got home, with a scar, a large dressing on my abdomen and a strong feeling of dislocation. Things looked the same, but they were not. I had been somewhere – mentally, physically and spiritually. I had been ‘off the grid’.

In physical terms my journey was not a long one – psychologically I travelled far.
I’m not special; just spectacularly lucky. A middle (!) aged woman with interesting friends, a healthy income, a rewarding life and all her own teeth. I’m a slim, fit, vegetarian with good eyesight. I swim, travel, write, make films – and generally behave much as I did 30 years ago. The fact that my body has generously allowed me to do this without retaliating is an arrangement I have never questioned.
Then, about a year ago I began to feel unwell. Not ‘ill’ – but definitely ‘not well’. The symptoms were vague; headaches, constipation, bloating, sickness, nausea, lower backache and an occasional burning sensation in my upper abdomen.

I don’t smoke, but am in routine denial about ‘units of alcohol consumed’ so addressing this was my first move. My second was a visit – the first of many – to my GP. During the months that followed I was prescribed medication; proton-pump inhibitors to control production of gastric acid; antibiotics for infections; fluoxetine for stress/depression and paracetamol for pain. Eventually I was sent for an endoscopy.

Fear of this procedure haunted me for weeks. I have worked in war zones which fazed me less. Sadly it revealed nothing that would explain my symptoms – and probably reinforced the GP’s suspicion that my malaise was nothing more than textbook hypochondria.

The slow erosion of ‘wellbeing’ is hard to describe; like some vital essence quietly draining away. I moved more slowly, I felt sluggish, fuddled, depressed. I slept a lot.

After my last trip to Afghanistan (during which I enjoyed an unexpected respite from these symptoms) I turned to Dr Google. At least he didn’t turn a baleful eye and ask if I was worrying about anything . . . but the internet is a fickle friend when it comes to self diagnosis and I was reluctant to accept what I was finding; a range of choices from appendicitis to bowel cancer.

I struggled on, convinced that maybe my (very real) symptoms were perhaps no more sinister than indigestion.

But if the medical fraternity was losing interest in me, my friends were not. A collective chorus of indignation, and a bout of sickness that kept me bedridden for a week, prompted my return to the GP. Although the diagnosis was yet another ‘mystery tummy bug’ she ordered blood tests. Weeks passed. I felt a little better – and then the sudden, cholicky pains began. This time it hurt to walk and I became aware of a localised tenderness on the right of my lower abdomen. All the usual suspects arrived – constipation, bloating, nausea, burning pain, headache, backache, sickness - and I resolved, once more, to brave the surgery . . . if only to collect my test results.

The fact that they were ‘clear’ and described a person in rude health did not auger well for my announcement that I was once more ‘unwell’. After a brief abdominal examination my GP looked at the clock; already I was trespassing on the next patient’s time. We had the exchange: The one that goes “Well - what do you want me to do?” followed by “Well - I don’t know, you’re the doctor!”

We locked eyes. I gripped my bag ready to leave. She sighed. “I can book you a scan . . . but that will take 8 to 12 weeks. Or I can send you to A&E.” Apologetic for presenting so many unsatisfactory symptoms I was about to accept the CT scan offer and limp back to work with my ‘hypochondria’ when the doc made a sudden decision and picked up the phone.

It was a defining moment. Ten minutes later I was in a taxi en route to A&E; 48 hours later I was recovering from emergency surgery having lost an appendix and part of my bowel. I also underwent something of a catharsis.

The time that passed between leaving home on foot for my GP’s appointment and being returned, in a friend’s car, five days later, changed my view of myself, my neighbourhood, the NHS, my colleagues, immigration laws, the media and the human spirit. Like Scrooge, I have been returned to a world that will never look quite the same again.

OK, I’m a journalist – and for five days I was a scared one. The ‘this can’t be happening to me’ monologue was a constant accompaniment. It began when I was tagged, debagged and tested in A&E.

Our clothing defines us. I arrived in tight black jeans, a figure hugging lycra top and a scarf: I left for X-Ray wearing an androgynous floral gown, a wristband and a canula; what was left of ‘me’ stuffed into a plastic Tesco bag that the triage nurse supplied.

For 48 hours I was Nil by Mouth in anticipation of surgery that never took place. My reprieves both came in the evening when kindly staff advised me that ‘food had finished’. A slice of white bread and a yogurt scavenged from the nurses station kept me going for two days. Only later did I recall that a friend had brought me crisps and biscuits that had disappeared into the depths of my bedside locker.

Here beginneth the 1st LESSON.

WAITING

Large London hospitals feature a lot of waiting. This process involves shepherds and sheep. Sheep far outnumber shepherds and can be identified by their haunted faces, glazed eyes and flapping clothing that reveals their bottoms. Sheep are often cold (who wouldn’t be, wearing a theatre gown with at least one of the ties missing!) and uncomfortable. Discomfort is exacerbated by the provision of hard metal chairs. Sheep loiter aimlessly but rarely stray further than the nearest WC or coffee machine. Those in obvious pain or discomfort are absorbed in their own distress. Some moan, vomit or chat to their police minders. Others play obsessively with mobile phones, sharing details of their domestic lives with all who care (or don’t care) to listen.

Example: “I told you, I’m in A&E; I can’t feed the f*****g cat. Where the bloody ‘ell are you anyway? So who’s gonna pick the kids up from school? Not your mother that’s for sure!Lazy cow, never done nuffink for us she never . . . "

Shepherds on the other hand wear ID cars, reveal no embarrassing areas of anatomy, move purposefully and with authority. They greet one another with bonhomie and are a great source of information about other members of staff.

Example: “You know what he called me? He called me ‘pondlife’. That wasn’t very nice was it. Stuck up git. Swannin round here like he’s somebody. He’ll get his eventually. I was upset, like. Know what I mean?”
My first stint in the waiting pen enabled me to identify both ‘pondlife’ and ‘git’ which made the subsequent conversation much more meaningful. I made a kindred connection (‘Chest Pains’) after initial processing from A&E but we were soon separated. (Good luck with the photography course by the way!).
When my turn came to be examined my morale was low. When the doctor who first examined me had finished, it was even lower.

Here beginneth the 2nd LESSON


AGE &GENDER

Junior doctors are, in the main, YOUNG. Women over 40 are OLD. Women of my age are INVISIBLE. There was some reluctance to accept that I was on no medication, had no allergies or ‘conditions’ and had never had surgery. My given name has never been used so failure to respond to it with due alacrity was seen as evidence of confusion and I was provided with a second wristband.
While doctors A and B argued sotto voce about whether ‘IT’ was, or was not, appendicitis I began to fantasise about food. So did my already rioting stomach until a further discussion ensued about whether to send me for an ultrasound or a CT scan.
Example: “Because of the radiation we don’t usually send younger people for CT scans, but they do reveal more than the ultrasound. I think we’ll send you for a CT . . .




TO BE CONTINUED . . .