2 (32) IN LESS THAN A CENTURY IX.

SOME THINGS JUST DON'T HAPPEN. 

The seventies (continued and concluded.) 

Edward Heath's beleaguered Tory government departed in 1974 and a Labour government led by Harold Wilson finally gained control, though only with a very narrow majority. In 1976 Wilson was replaced by James Callaghan and the Labour government borrowed from the International Monetary Fund.

Things, as my mother used to say, had come to a pretty pass. 

On the work front, I could see no point in the new Area Health Authority which, I was convinced, was a totally unnecessary tier of management. I did not like hospitals, had never wanted to work in or around them, heartily disliked the more overbearing of the buggers who did, was blunt in conversation about it and fell out rather pointedly with one or two of the more arrogant of the ilk along the way. 

Honesty is not always the best policy. (Ask Gerald Ratner. Ask Brian True-May.) So in 1978 when my (former Southampton; still living there; got to the office every morning at about half ten, went home every afternoon at around three) boss, the FPC Administrator, took his retirement, I applied for and, unsurprisingly, did not get the vacant post. The interviewing panel, which included at least one of the aforementioned ilk (judge not a man by his friends but by his enemies), gave it to a good talker. He came over from the mainland. I had come across him in the past: he had scant ability but had neatly mastered the art of moving from place to place before his mistakes caught up with him. Within a year he moved onwards and upwards. A bearded version of him then obtained the post. I didn't apply. No point. 

Some things just don't happen. 

What did happen was that Margaret Thatcher became Britain's first female prime minister in May 1979 and three months later Lord Mountbatten (cousin of the Queen and a popular governor of the Isle of Wight) was assassinated in Ireland.

My Leader has since remarked that the NHS in the seventies (like the Dementors in J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter books) drained me of all joyousness. I do regret putting her through that. A man brought up in the thirties really should have done better than bring his workplace home with him. 

Anyway, most of the protagonists are now dead and my dealings with them best forgotten. The eighties surely had to be an improvement. 

HOME. 

Nice people. 

We are blessed with an abundance of nice people who come by to tell us how much more the old surgery now looks like a family home. 

We have also been visited by the fire brigade's safety officer who fitted the place with smoke detectors and advised us how to reduce the hazard of accidental fire. A pleasant and worthwhile bloke. Our thanks to him.

TELEVISION. 

There has been much coming and going about which more next time. For now: 

The Graham Norton Show (BBC1 last night) captured the first television interview in 42 years by Maggie Smith - a magic appearance. 

If you missed it, look it up on one of those repeat thingies. Worth the viewing. Even the ubiquitous Mr. Norton is tolerable in such company.