As someone who was a teenager during what is euphemistically called the Swinging Sixties, I was intrigued to watch the TV programme on Mary Whitehouse. For those readers who do not remember she was the lady who tried to clean up TV. As a teenager I laughed at her, at the time calling her fuddy duddy as not to, would not have been Hip or with it man. On hindsight the excess of the 60’s were restricted to London and other large cities rather then the provincial towns like Sittingbourne, where Sex outside of marriage was still frowned upon of course it happened but any girl admitting to it was called a slut, I personally never came across any drugs I was told that so and so was taking Purple hearts etc but never took any and was never offered it. Teenagers still went to church, as a Roman Catholic I had to go to Mass every Sunday, I did not want to but my mother insisted with “While your under my roof you do as I tell you”, yes in those days we still obeyed and respected our parents. As for Alcohol most dances in the town were alcohol free but more importantly we did not have the money to binge drink and if you did not look 18 you never got as far as the door in a pub, as for drinking out of a bottle unheard of. Yes there were punch ups, I have had a few in my youth, yet it was not the violence of knives or beating a man senseless it was not considered manly to gang up on an individual .
So why bring up all this nostalgia, well the Mary Whitehouse film allowed me to see my teenage years in a different light I always thought that the 1960’s was a teenage revolution but when you study it was teenagers being manipulated by a “Left wing middle aged academics” assisted by politicians like Roy Jenkins as an experiment. There experiment I feel failed and has led to the society of today, they may feel it has been a success for they wanted totally freedom of the individual, free to for them to express themselves in what ever way they wish no matter what the consequences. Freedom without Responsibilities to another Human Being or Society!
The Bishop of Rochester The Right reverend Michael Nazir-Ali said the collapse of Christianity has wrecked British society; It has destroyed family life and left the country defenceless against the rise of radical Islam in a moral and spiritual vacuum. His attack on liberal values, he maintains the country was mired in a doctrine of 'endless self-indulgence' that had brought an explosion in public violence and binge-drinking He went on to say that “the consequences were 'the destruction of the family because of the alleged parity of different forms of life together, the loss of a father figure, especially for boys, because the role of fathers is deemed otiose, the abuse of substances (including alcohol), the loss of respect for the person leading to horrendous and mindless attacks, the increasing communications gap between generations and social classes - the list is very long.'
One wonders if more of has listened to Mary Whitehouse would we being living in a more genteel society today? One will never know.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Modern Poems sent in by a reader
In today's modern age, the nursery rhymes of yesteryear seem outdated.These are the new, approved (adult) versions for modern times:
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
The structure of the wall was incorrect
So he won 10 grand with Claims Direct.
It's Raining, It's Pouring.
Oh crikey, it's Global Warming.
Jack and Jill went into townTo fetch some chips and sweeties.
He can't keep his heart rate down And she's got diabetes.
Mary had a little lambit ran into a pylon.
10,000 volts went up its arseand turned its wool to nylon.
Jack and Jill Went up the hill And planned to do some kissing.
Jack made a pass and grabbed her ass
Now two of his teeth are missing.
Mary had alittle lambIts fleece was white and wispy.
Then it caught Foot and Mouth Disease
And now it's black and crispy.
Mary h ad a little skirtwith splits right up the sidesand
everywhere that Mary went the boys could see her thighs.
Mary had another skirt'twas split right up the front
But she didn't wear that one very often.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
The structure of the wall was incorrect
So he won 10 grand with Claims Direct.
It's Raining, It's Pouring.
Oh crikey, it's Global Warming.
Jack and Jill went into townTo fetch some chips and sweeties.
He can't keep his heart rate down And she's got diabetes.
Mary had a little lambit ran into a pylon.
10,000 volts went up its arseand turned its wool to nylon.
Jack and Jill Went up the hill And planned to do some kissing.
Jack made a pass and grabbed her ass
Now two of his teeth are missing.
Mary had alittle lambIts fleece was white and wispy.
Then it caught Foot and Mouth Disease
And now it's black and crispy.
Mary h ad a little skirtwith splits right up the sidesand
everywhere that Mary went the boys could see her thighs.
Mary had another skirt'twas split right up the front
But she didn't wear that one very often.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Aftermath
The aftermath of my caravan accident is a real eye opener first my Insurance company are trying their best not to pay out and it looks like a may have to go to an Ombusman to get what I paid in for more of this as it develops. What I did find amazing was the fee I had to pay to have my Caravan taken back back to Sittingbourne a distance of maybe 30 miles it was £350 and £105 of that was a Statutory Charge Levied on behalf of the Police Why? what do I pay road tax for ?
Monday, May 12, 2008
Near Death Experience
NEAR DEATH EXPEREINCE
I am a very keen Caravan User, I would rather go on a caravan holiday they go to some exotic country, many of you may consider me daft but there you go. My latest Caravan was a 2007 Compass Rally 650 you note the word was! Since I started with my caravan I had always pulled them with a Ford Twin Cab Ranger with out the slightest problem but the joke of being called a POSH PIKEY did begin to wear a bit thin so I decided to change to a Land Rover Discovery. My first shock was that my 2003 Ford Ranger which I purchased in 2004 for £12000 only fetched £4000 in December 2007, my first trip out with the Disco and the Caravan was in late April we travelled the short distance to Folkestone for a long weekend travelling down the M20. The Disco performed terrible it rolled all over the place allowed the caravan to rock; Lorries were sucking me in and then pushing me out you dare not travel over 50 mph for fear of your life, experiences I never had with my Ranger. So on my return home I decide this Disco must go I tried to trade it in for a Ranger only to be told that I would lose another £4000 on the deal so that was a non starter, so I stuck to the vehicle. Last weekend the second weekend in May we would try again I had picked out a lovely Caravan site near Guildford with a beautiful lake. This time I would double check everything I telephoned a Disco dealer and consulted the hand book for the correct Tyre pressures, load rating etc, the caravan club and the camping and caravanning club were contacted and their Technical Services gave the correct Tyre pressures all done and of we go. So off we go I still had serious doubts but maybe the M20 with all its Lorries made ruts in the road made the drive different. As we travelled I felt a little roll on the Disco but asked the wife what she thought, she said it felt better I agreed. On reaching the M26 the wife said it seems alright now and we began to enjoy the journey we were on an open no Lorries, no cars, on a flat road, the sun was out, no wind what could go wrong.
Well things did go wrong within a minute I felt the caravan beginning a slight snake within seconds the whole caravan snaking form side to side I could not control it, my wife Valerie shouted “what is happening” all I could say “I have no control” the caravan pulled me in a complete 360 degree circle, the Disco lurched up into the air as the Caravan turned over and then it stopped. We were on the hard shoulder facing on coming traffic miraculously the caravan had unhitched itself before rolling down the bank, my wife and myself were left seated in an upright Disco. Luckily my wife is not one of those who panics easily, she said to me “look at our beautiful caravan” I retorted “Sod the Caravan we are alive” with in seconds I was out of the Disco telephoning the Police while I was doing this a couple of cars stopped one had a couple of nurses who checked out my wife which we were grateful to.
Now we have to await the Insurance claim and all the rig moral that goes with that and see if they can tell me what happened although in all probability it was a tyre blow out. Interestingly enough while the accident was happening I or my wife had no sense of panic or fear yet we both thought we were about to die, as she said to my youngest daughter “God had decided it was not our turn to meet him yet”.
One thing is for sure I will rely on my instincts a lot more, I did not like the Disco and felt unsafe; some times we put more emphasis on finance then feelings a lesson well learnt now at least I will reach my 59th birthday.
What next well the Disco is certainly being sold, do we have another caravan who knows? I am in need of a new hip and knee my wife tells me maybe it to much me hooking up and putting awnings up etc I would like to say we will back on the road again but I will not look forward to the first trip.
Martin Clarke 118 east Street Sittingbourne Kent ME10 4RX
I am a very keen Caravan User, I would rather go on a caravan holiday they go to some exotic country, many of you may consider me daft but there you go. My latest Caravan was a 2007 Compass Rally 650 you note the word was! Since I started with my caravan I had always pulled them with a Ford Twin Cab Ranger with out the slightest problem but the joke of being called a POSH PIKEY did begin to wear a bit thin so I decided to change to a Land Rover Discovery. My first shock was that my 2003 Ford Ranger which I purchased in 2004 for £12000 only fetched £4000 in December 2007, my first trip out with the Disco and the Caravan was in late April we travelled the short distance to Folkestone for a long weekend travelling down the M20. The Disco performed terrible it rolled all over the place allowed the caravan to rock; Lorries were sucking me in and then pushing me out you dare not travel over 50 mph for fear of your life, experiences I never had with my Ranger. So on my return home I decide this Disco must go I tried to trade it in for a Ranger only to be told that I would lose another £4000 on the deal so that was a non starter, so I stuck to the vehicle. Last weekend the second weekend in May we would try again I had picked out a lovely Caravan site near Guildford with a beautiful lake. This time I would double check everything I telephoned a Disco dealer and consulted the hand book for the correct Tyre pressures, load rating etc, the caravan club and the camping and caravanning club were contacted and their Technical Services gave the correct Tyre pressures all done and of we go. So off we go I still had serious doubts but maybe the M20 with all its Lorries made ruts in the road made the drive different. As we travelled I felt a little roll on the Disco but asked the wife what she thought, she said it felt better I agreed. On reaching the M26 the wife said it seems alright now and we began to enjoy the journey we were on an open no Lorries, no cars, on a flat road, the sun was out, no wind what could go wrong.
Well things did go wrong within a minute I felt the caravan beginning a slight snake within seconds the whole caravan snaking form side to side I could not control it, my wife Valerie shouted “what is happening” all I could say “I have no control” the caravan pulled me in a complete 360 degree circle, the Disco lurched up into the air as the Caravan turned over and then it stopped. We were on the hard shoulder facing on coming traffic miraculously the caravan had unhitched itself before rolling down the bank, my wife and myself were left seated in an upright Disco. Luckily my wife is not one of those who panics easily, she said to me “look at our beautiful caravan” I retorted “Sod the Caravan we are alive” with in seconds I was out of the Disco telephoning the Police while I was doing this a couple of cars stopped one had a couple of nurses who checked out my wife which we were grateful to.
Now we have to await the Insurance claim and all the rig moral that goes with that and see if they can tell me what happened although in all probability it was a tyre blow out. Interestingly enough while the accident was happening I or my wife had no sense of panic or fear yet we both thought we were about to die, as she said to my youngest daughter “God had decided it was not our turn to meet him yet”.
One thing is for sure I will rely on my instincts a lot more, I did not like the Disco and felt unsafe; some times we put more emphasis on finance then feelings a lesson well learnt now at least I will reach my 59th birthday.
What next well the Disco is certainly being sold, do we have another caravan who knows? I am in need of a new hip and knee my wife tells me maybe it to much me hooking up and putting awnings up etc I would like to say we will back on the road again but I will not look forward to the first trip.
Martin Clarke 118 east Street Sittingbourne Kent ME10 4RX
Friday, May 09, 2008
Two excellent articles by Goron Henderson Hospitals and Ports
As someone who is waiting for a Hip and knee operation this does not give me any confidence
“I am sorry to say that I would have to be very, very ill and in incredible pain, before anyone could persuade me to go back to Medway Hospital for more treatment.”
What follows is a true story and is an indictment of the way in which parts of the National Health Service are managed. The story raises a number of important questions, including: What is the point of pumping ever more money into the NHS if poor management allows some of the practices mentioned in the story to persist?
The story came to me in the form of a letter, which I reprint almost verbatim because it shows that the complaint was made more in sorrow than anger. It is worth pointing out that I hear many similar stories about poor treatment at Medway Hospital, but this particular complaint epitomises the bulk of those stories.
The letter is headed: Six Days At Medway Hospital and has been changed slightly to protect the identity of the complainant, who wishes to remain anonymous.
*************
‘I presented myself promptly at 7 am on Tuesday morning at P.O.C.U. (Pre Op. Care Unit). Had I thought to pronounce P.O.C.U. as an acronym perhaps a due sense of foreboding would have hit me!
‘However, having been informed I was “first on the list”, I answered questions, had my temperature and blood pressure taken, changed into a gown and packed my clothes for transfer.
‘AT about 8.30 am I was wheeled to the operating theatre only to be told that someone had forgotten to turn on the heating. So, I waited while various other patients arrived and then departed to their assigned theatres.
‘Eventually we were off to the theatre! Full speed ahead and don’t spare the horses!
‘In the anaesthetics room, I offered the back of my right hand, as usual, only to have my left hand taken. A needle was pushed in bursting the vein, at which time my right hand was accepted after all.
‘My next memory was of the recovery ward, of drifting in and out of consciousness, being asked how I was and then transferred to my designated ward.
‘On the ward I remember various faces appearing over my bed and asking me to quantify my pain on a scale of one to ten. Not knowing what was good or bad I guessed my answers while trying to make clear that any pain in my back was quite liveable, but I did have a raging pain in my right should that totally occupied my mind. Nobody appeared to listen; they seemed concerned with my back and nothing else.
‘I was given a button and told that if my pain was bad I should press it and this would give me pain relief. So I pressed the button, but, apparently I did this too often and after a while I started to hallucinate.
‘Eventually, I found another button that I couldn’t remember being mentioned to me. When I pressed it this brought a nurse who explained that there is a limit to how much pain relief I could seek!
‘However, I still seemed to be struggling to get across where my pain was seated. Whether on a score of one to ten, or ten to a thousand, it was my shoulder that hurt. Excuse me! Nobody had operated on my shoulder and would somebody please listen!
‘Even now, I am not sure if anyone took any notice at all of what I was saying. Certainly nobody seemed to take any action on the subject.
‘The following day the physiotherapist explained some simply exercises and promised that tomorrow I would be helped out of bed. As it happens I had worked out that some form of exercise was a good idea and had been practicing wriggling my toes and moving my legs and arms.
‘Tomorrow came and went without my being helped out of bed, so the morning after I resolved to help myself. In a nick of time along came the physiotherapists who parked me in an armchair and said: “Tomorrow we’ll help you walk”.
‘I quickly became bored with sitting like a lemon in my chair. One of my fellow patients, who was more mobile than me, found a walking frame onto which I could hook my catheter bag and I started shuffling round the ward. It wasn’t long before my mobility was noticed, the catheter was removed and I was “fitted” with crutches.
‘These days, if you wish to watch television, or make or receive a telephone call, you are expected to subscribe to an expensive private service. Since I rather object to the idea of private business making a profit at the expense of hospital patients, I kept my mobile phone with me (well hidden!) and did not watch television during my stay.
‘It strikes me as odd that the hospital has a restaurant that serves excellent value-for-money meals to staff and visitors, and yet food for the patients is transported half way across the country. No doubt leaving a monster carbon footprint in its wake!
‘So, we had sandwiches with the bread so dry in crunched; mashed potato that spread itself across the plate in a grey, tasteless, soggy mess; peas that the Royal Navy of yore could have used to supplement grape shot and a lasagne that looked and felt more like peanut brittle!
‘We were lucky if we were offered three hot drinks in a day, although we were reminded to drink lots of water!
‘Needless to say I lost weight in hospital!
‘As my time in hospital progressed, it quickly became obvious that there were members of the staff who had a sense of vocation and worked their socks off, while some of their colleagues were happy to drift along doing as little as possible.
‘One young male staff nurse had time for everybody, tending to our needs, answering our questions and happily “walking the extra mile” for us.
‘Another, equally dedicated female staff nurse, to whom we complained about the terrible state of the toilet, cleaned it herself when she found that nothing had been done to improve its condition 24 hours later.
‘Realising that lavatory cleaning did not appear to be a major priority at the hospital, as soon as I was physically able I got into the habit of cleaning the more obvious stains in this particular facility before I felt I could use it.
‘Never the deepest of sleepers, I frequently awoke shivering because the hopelessly inadequate double glazing allowed as much draught into the ward as if the windows were open. One night I took my crutches for a walk in an effort to warm myself up, only to find that all the night staff were wearing outdoor coats because of the cold!
‘One day a staff nurse came to everyone with injections to the stomach. He said we would have to d thus ourselves for a number of weeks after our release from hospital and that the injected drug was to thin our blood. When I was eventually released nothing was said about these injections and no drug or equipment was provided. From my subsequent research I believe the drug to be heparin and its purpose is to avoid thrombosis!
‘One of my fellow patients, known to be somewhat volatile, exploded one day because he asked the same question several time and was given an equal number of different, evasive answers! There was an awful fuss and he was labelled “difficult”.
‘On Thursday I was told to be ready because I was about to be taken for an X-ray. That eventually happened on Saturday. I was then told that the only reason I couldn’t go home was because I had to be fitted with a special corset and the relevant department that handled such equipment didn’t work at weekends.
‘So, on Monday one of the nursing staff put a tape measure round my middle at which time I found out that these specially fitted corsets actually only came in standard small, medium, large or extra large sizes. Wow!
‘Anyway, once I was wearing the extremely uncomfortable undergarment I was told I could telephone my wife to come and collect me. The first person to actually explain to me why I had to wear the corset was the physiotherapist who I saw some two weeks after being released from Medway Hospital.
‘Having phoned home I was told my bed was needed and I was immediately moved to a room which I think was called the “discharge suite”. There I sat in an extremely uncomfortable chair whilst my wife drove to Gillingham and queued for one of the extremely limited parking spaces.
‘I freely admit that I wept with relied most of the way home. Once there I removed my “fitted” corset because it was so uncomfortable and found a series of bruises where it had chafed and squeezed my flesh.
‘I am sorry to say that I would have to be very, very ill and in incredible pain, before anyone could persuade me to go back to Medway Hospital for more treatment.
‘By the way, my shoulder still hurts and is the major source of pain!’
*************
I don’t know about you, but some parts of the letter reminded me of scenes from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Of course that film was set in an American lunatic asylum, whereas what happened to my correspondent took place in a British NHS hospital here in the 21st Century. It is both depressing and worrying that this is not a rare complaint, but is one that can be replicated in many hospitals up and down the country.
But the most shocking thing about this story is that I am not shocked. Such tales of indifferent treatment, poor food, dirty toilets, off-hand staff, inadequate information and a “conveyor belt” mentality towards patients are legion.
I am a supporter of the NHS. I was born in 1948, the same year the NHS was founded, and I have used it ever since. My two sisters and brother-in-law work in the NHS. I know that most of the staff working in the NHS are dedicated, caring people, however, I am sure that they would agree there is something dreadfully wrong with a system that lets a patient leave its care with such a negative perception.
Read his words again: “I am sorry to say that I would have to be very, very ill and in incredible pain, before anyone could persuade me to go back to Medway Hospital for more treatment.”
For a patient to be left feeling that way is scandalous, but what is worse is that this particular complainant has asked to remain anonymous because he is frightened that because of his condition he will be obliged to use Medway Hospital again and is fearful that he will be discriminated against because if his complaint.
However, he does want his case highlighted because, as he says: “I would at least have the comfort of knowing that maybe something could be done to make other peoples’ hospital experience more tolerable”.
Gordon Henderson
May 4th 2008
Gordon Henderson is the Conservative Parliamentary Candidate for Sittingbourne & Sheppey.
PRESS RELEASE
Date: 5th May 2008
Release date: Immediate
Subject: Henderson: “Crazy for the Government to expand the Port of Dover”.
Local Conservative Parliamentary Candidate, Gordon Henderson, has hit out at plans to expand the Port of Dover and instead has called for the Government to assist the Port of Sheerness to expand.
Mr Henderson’s comments followed news that Bob Goldfield, the Port of Dover chief executive, is looking for a major investor to help fund a £420 million expansion that would see another four roll-on, roll off berths built in the Western Docks.
Mr Henderson said:
‘It would be crazy for the Government to expand the Port of Dover in this way. Strategically, it would do the country no favours. The current roads infrastructure in and around Dover can barely cope with the existing level of business and I dread to think what will happen if another four berths are built.
‘We already have the nightmare of Operation Stack closing down the M20 on a regular basis and this will only get worse if the port expands still further.
‘What the Government should be doing is helping the Port of Sheerness to expand its operations to enable it to hand more roll-on, roll-off business.
‘Such an expansion at Sheerness would have a number of benefits. It would provide an alternative route if there was a problem at Calais, which seems to happen increasingly often, and this in turn would do away with the need for Operation Stack, because freight could be re-directed via Sheerness. With the new bridge across the Swale such an option is now possible.
‘An expansion at Sheerness would also provide more skilled, semi skilled and unskilled jobs for the people of Sittingbourne and Sheppey. It would be a real shot in the arm for our local economy.
‘The problem at the moment is that Sheerness Docks simply cannot compete with Dover because of that port’s status as a “trust port”, which means that although it has all the commercial advantages of private ports, it is backed by Government money and does not have to make a profit. Frankly it is unfair competition and it is about time the Government privatised Dover and made it compete fairly with ports such as Sheerness.’
…ends…
“I am sorry to say that I would have to be very, very ill and in incredible pain, before anyone could persuade me to go back to Medway Hospital for more treatment.”
What follows is a true story and is an indictment of the way in which parts of the National Health Service are managed. The story raises a number of important questions, including: What is the point of pumping ever more money into the NHS if poor management allows some of the practices mentioned in the story to persist?
The story came to me in the form of a letter, which I reprint almost verbatim because it shows that the complaint was made more in sorrow than anger. It is worth pointing out that I hear many similar stories about poor treatment at Medway Hospital, but this particular complaint epitomises the bulk of those stories.
The letter is headed: Six Days At Medway Hospital and has been changed slightly to protect the identity of the complainant, who wishes to remain anonymous.
*************
‘I presented myself promptly at 7 am on Tuesday morning at P.O.C.U. (Pre Op. Care Unit). Had I thought to pronounce P.O.C.U. as an acronym perhaps a due sense of foreboding would have hit me!
‘However, having been informed I was “first on the list”, I answered questions, had my temperature and blood pressure taken, changed into a gown and packed my clothes for transfer.
‘AT about 8.30 am I was wheeled to the operating theatre only to be told that someone had forgotten to turn on the heating. So, I waited while various other patients arrived and then departed to their assigned theatres.
‘Eventually we were off to the theatre! Full speed ahead and don’t spare the horses!
‘In the anaesthetics room, I offered the back of my right hand, as usual, only to have my left hand taken. A needle was pushed in bursting the vein, at which time my right hand was accepted after all.
‘My next memory was of the recovery ward, of drifting in and out of consciousness, being asked how I was and then transferred to my designated ward.
‘On the ward I remember various faces appearing over my bed and asking me to quantify my pain on a scale of one to ten. Not knowing what was good or bad I guessed my answers while trying to make clear that any pain in my back was quite liveable, but I did have a raging pain in my right should that totally occupied my mind. Nobody appeared to listen; they seemed concerned with my back and nothing else.
‘I was given a button and told that if my pain was bad I should press it and this would give me pain relief. So I pressed the button, but, apparently I did this too often and after a while I started to hallucinate.
‘Eventually, I found another button that I couldn’t remember being mentioned to me. When I pressed it this brought a nurse who explained that there is a limit to how much pain relief I could seek!
‘However, I still seemed to be struggling to get across where my pain was seated. Whether on a score of one to ten, or ten to a thousand, it was my shoulder that hurt. Excuse me! Nobody had operated on my shoulder and would somebody please listen!
‘Even now, I am not sure if anyone took any notice at all of what I was saying. Certainly nobody seemed to take any action on the subject.
‘The following day the physiotherapist explained some simply exercises and promised that tomorrow I would be helped out of bed. As it happens I had worked out that some form of exercise was a good idea and had been practicing wriggling my toes and moving my legs and arms.
‘Tomorrow came and went without my being helped out of bed, so the morning after I resolved to help myself. In a nick of time along came the physiotherapists who parked me in an armchair and said: “Tomorrow we’ll help you walk”.
‘I quickly became bored with sitting like a lemon in my chair. One of my fellow patients, who was more mobile than me, found a walking frame onto which I could hook my catheter bag and I started shuffling round the ward. It wasn’t long before my mobility was noticed, the catheter was removed and I was “fitted” with crutches.
‘These days, if you wish to watch television, or make or receive a telephone call, you are expected to subscribe to an expensive private service. Since I rather object to the idea of private business making a profit at the expense of hospital patients, I kept my mobile phone with me (well hidden!) and did not watch television during my stay.
‘It strikes me as odd that the hospital has a restaurant that serves excellent value-for-money meals to staff and visitors, and yet food for the patients is transported half way across the country. No doubt leaving a monster carbon footprint in its wake!
‘So, we had sandwiches with the bread so dry in crunched; mashed potato that spread itself across the plate in a grey, tasteless, soggy mess; peas that the Royal Navy of yore could have used to supplement grape shot and a lasagne that looked and felt more like peanut brittle!
‘We were lucky if we were offered three hot drinks in a day, although we were reminded to drink lots of water!
‘Needless to say I lost weight in hospital!
‘As my time in hospital progressed, it quickly became obvious that there were members of the staff who had a sense of vocation and worked their socks off, while some of their colleagues were happy to drift along doing as little as possible.
‘One young male staff nurse had time for everybody, tending to our needs, answering our questions and happily “walking the extra mile” for us.
‘Another, equally dedicated female staff nurse, to whom we complained about the terrible state of the toilet, cleaned it herself when she found that nothing had been done to improve its condition 24 hours later.
‘Realising that lavatory cleaning did not appear to be a major priority at the hospital, as soon as I was physically able I got into the habit of cleaning the more obvious stains in this particular facility before I felt I could use it.
‘Never the deepest of sleepers, I frequently awoke shivering because the hopelessly inadequate double glazing allowed as much draught into the ward as if the windows were open. One night I took my crutches for a walk in an effort to warm myself up, only to find that all the night staff were wearing outdoor coats because of the cold!
‘One day a staff nurse came to everyone with injections to the stomach. He said we would have to d thus ourselves for a number of weeks after our release from hospital and that the injected drug was to thin our blood. When I was eventually released nothing was said about these injections and no drug or equipment was provided. From my subsequent research I believe the drug to be heparin and its purpose is to avoid thrombosis!
‘One of my fellow patients, known to be somewhat volatile, exploded one day because he asked the same question several time and was given an equal number of different, evasive answers! There was an awful fuss and he was labelled “difficult”.
‘On Thursday I was told to be ready because I was about to be taken for an X-ray. That eventually happened on Saturday. I was then told that the only reason I couldn’t go home was because I had to be fitted with a special corset and the relevant department that handled such equipment didn’t work at weekends.
‘So, on Monday one of the nursing staff put a tape measure round my middle at which time I found out that these specially fitted corsets actually only came in standard small, medium, large or extra large sizes. Wow!
‘Anyway, once I was wearing the extremely uncomfortable undergarment I was told I could telephone my wife to come and collect me. The first person to actually explain to me why I had to wear the corset was the physiotherapist who I saw some two weeks after being released from Medway Hospital.
‘Having phoned home I was told my bed was needed and I was immediately moved to a room which I think was called the “discharge suite”. There I sat in an extremely uncomfortable chair whilst my wife drove to Gillingham and queued for one of the extremely limited parking spaces.
‘I freely admit that I wept with relied most of the way home. Once there I removed my “fitted” corset because it was so uncomfortable and found a series of bruises where it had chafed and squeezed my flesh.
‘I am sorry to say that I would have to be very, very ill and in incredible pain, before anyone could persuade me to go back to Medway Hospital for more treatment.
‘By the way, my shoulder still hurts and is the major source of pain!’
*************
I don’t know about you, but some parts of the letter reminded me of scenes from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Of course that film was set in an American lunatic asylum, whereas what happened to my correspondent took place in a British NHS hospital here in the 21st Century. It is both depressing and worrying that this is not a rare complaint, but is one that can be replicated in many hospitals up and down the country.
But the most shocking thing about this story is that I am not shocked. Such tales of indifferent treatment, poor food, dirty toilets, off-hand staff, inadequate information and a “conveyor belt” mentality towards patients are legion.
I am a supporter of the NHS. I was born in 1948, the same year the NHS was founded, and I have used it ever since. My two sisters and brother-in-law work in the NHS. I know that most of the staff working in the NHS are dedicated, caring people, however, I am sure that they would agree there is something dreadfully wrong with a system that lets a patient leave its care with such a negative perception.
Read his words again: “I am sorry to say that I would have to be very, very ill and in incredible pain, before anyone could persuade me to go back to Medway Hospital for more treatment.”
For a patient to be left feeling that way is scandalous, but what is worse is that this particular complainant has asked to remain anonymous because he is frightened that because of his condition he will be obliged to use Medway Hospital again and is fearful that he will be discriminated against because if his complaint.
However, he does want his case highlighted because, as he says: “I would at least have the comfort of knowing that maybe something could be done to make other peoples’ hospital experience more tolerable”.
Gordon Henderson
May 4th 2008
Gordon Henderson is the Conservative Parliamentary Candidate for Sittingbourne & Sheppey.
PRESS RELEASE
Date: 5th May 2008
Release date: Immediate
Subject: Henderson: “Crazy for the Government to expand the Port of Dover”.
Local Conservative Parliamentary Candidate, Gordon Henderson, has hit out at plans to expand the Port of Dover and instead has called for the Government to assist the Port of Sheerness to expand.
Mr Henderson’s comments followed news that Bob Goldfield, the Port of Dover chief executive, is looking for a major investor to help fund a £420 million expansion that would see another four roll-on, roll off berths built in the Western Docks.
Mr Henderson said:
‘It would be crazy for the Government to expand the Port of Dover in this way. Strategically, it would do the country no favours. The current roads infrastructure in and around Dover can barely cope with the existing level of business and I dread to think what will happen if another four berths are built.
‘We already have the nightmare of Operation Stack closing down the M20 on a regular basis and this will only get worse if the port expands still further.
‘What the Government should be doing is helping the Port of Sheerness to expand its operations to enable it to hand more roll-on, roll-off business.
‘Such an expansion at Sheerness would have a number of benefits. It would provide an alternative route if there was a problem at Calais, which seems to happen increasingly often, and this in turn would do away with the need for Operation Stack, because freight could be re-directed via Sheerness. With the new bridge across the Swale such an option is now possible.
‘An expansion at Sheerness would also provide more skilled, semi skilled and unskilled jobs for the people of Sittingbourne and Sheppey. It would be a real shot in the arm for our local economy.
‘The problem at the moment is that Sheerness Docks simply cannot compete with Dover because of that port’s status as a “trust port”, which means that although it has all the commercial advantages of private ports, it is backed by Government money and does not have to make a profit. Frankly it is unfair competition and it is about time the Government privatised Dover and made it compete fairly with ports such as Sheerness.’
…ends…
Monday, May 05, 2008
MR & MRS or MR & MR
Dear Editor
I am a keen Caravan User but one of the downside is you sometimes watch Rubbish TV couple of weeks ago I spent ½ hour watching a game show called MR & MRS. I am told this used to be a show where married couples would be asked questions to see if they really knew their spouse. Yet the format has changed because ordinary people are no longer good enough so celebrities are now used, much more interesting “I don’t think”. First thing I noticed is that the name of the show is false because most of the couples were not married in fact one couple were Homosexuals surely they should be called MR & MR and for those not married maybe the title HIM & HER. I have been married for 38 years and take the sanctity of marriage very seriously, one of the important titles given to a married couple is MR & MRS this tells everyone they have made a legal (most cases religious as well) commitment to be together for life. The title Mr & Mrs is of significant importance in distinguishing our place in society, Nu Labour has done as much as it can to out law marriage now it seems the Media are jumping in on the act.
As for the programme why not just change the name to the Partnership Show and the great British Public can stay riveted to finding out whether one or the other can guess their favourite food. TV is has been really dumbed down over the years good job Doctor Who is on other wise there would nothing to watch !!!!!!
Martin Clarke Sittingbourne
I am a keen Caravan User but one of the downside is you sometimes watch Rubbish TV couple of weeks ago I spent ½ hour watching a game show called MR & MRS. I am told this used to be a show where married couples would be asked questions to see if they really knew their spouse. Yet the format has changed because ordinary people are no longer good enough so celebrities are now used, much more interesting “I don’t think”. First thing I noticed is that the name of the show is false because most of the couples were not married in fact one couple were Homosexuals surely they should be called MR & MR and for those not married maybe the title HIM & HER. I have been married for 38 years and take the sanctity of marriage very seriously, one of the important titles given to a married couple is MR & MRS this tells everyone they have made a legal (most cases religious as well) commitment to be together for life. The title Mr & Mrs is of significant importance in distinguishing our place in society, Nu Labour has done as much as it can to out law marriage now it seems the Media are jumping in on the act.
As for the programme why not just change the name to the Partnership Show and the great British Public can stay riveted to finding out whether one or the other can guess their favourite food. TV is has been really dumbed down over the years good job Doctor Who is on other wise there would nothing to watch !!!!!!
Martin Clarke Sittingbourne
Can you wonder why I have doubts about my Hip Op
“I am sorry to say that I would have to be very, very ill and in incredible pain, before anyone could persuade me to go back to
What follows is a true story and is an indictment of the way in which parts of the National Health Service are managed. The story raises a number of important questions, including: What is the point of pumping ever more money into the NHS if poor management allows some of the practices mentioned in the story to persist?
The story came to me in the form of a letter, which I reprint almost verbatim because it shows that the complaint was made more in sorrow than anger. It is worth pointing out that I hear many similar stories about poor treatment at
The letter is headed: Six Days At Medway Hospital and has been changed slightly to protect the identity of the complainant, who wishes to remain anonymous.
*************
‘I presented myself promptly at 7 am on Tuesday morning at P.O.C.U. (Pre Op. Care Unit). Had I thought to pronounce P.O.C.U. as an acronym perhaps a due sense of foreboding would have hit me!
‘However, having been informed I was “first on the list”, I answered questions, had my temperature and blood pressure taken, changed into a gown and packed my clothes for transfer.
‘AT about 8.30 am I was wheeled to the operating theatre only to be told that someone had forgotten to turn on the heating. So, I waited while various other patients arrived and then departed to their assigned theatres.
‘Eventually we were off to the theatre! Full speed ahead and don’t spare the horses!
‘In the anaesthetics room, I offered the back of my right hand, as usual, only to have my left hand taken. A needle was pushed in bursting the vein, at which time my right hand was accepted after all.
‘My next memory was of the recovery ward, of drifting in and out of consciousness, being asked how I was and then transferred to my designated ward.
‘On the ward I remember various faces appearing over my bed and asking me to quantify my pain on a scale of one to ten. Not knowing what was good or bad I guessed my answers while trying to make clear that any pain in my back was quite liveable, but I did have a raging pain in my right should that totally occupied my mind. Nobody appeared to listen; they seemed concerned with my back and nothing else.
‘I was given a button and told that if my pain was bad I should press it and this would give me pain relief. So I pressed the button, but, apparently I did this too often and after a while I started to hallucinate.
‘Eventually, I found another button that I couldn’t remember being mentioned to me. When I pressed it this brought a nurse who explained that there is a limit to how much pain relief I could seek!
‘However, I still seemed to be struggling to get across where my pain was seated. Whether on a score of one to ten, or ten to a thousand, it was my shoulder that hurt. Excuse me! Nobody had operated on my shoulder and would somebody please listen!
‘Even now, I am not sure if anyone took any notice at all of what I was saying. Certainly nobody seemed to take any action on the subject.
‘The following day the physiotherapist explained some simply exercises and promised that tomorrow I would be helped out of bed. As it happens I had worked out that some form of exercise was a good idea and had been practicing wriggling my toes and moving my legs and arms.
‘Tomorrow came and went without my being helped out of bed, so the morning after I resolved to help myself. In a nick of time along came the physiotherapists who parked me in an armchair and said: “Tomorrow we’ll help you walk”.
‘I quickly became bored with sitting like a lemon in my chair. One of my fellow patients, who was more mobile than me, found a walking frame onto which I could hook my catheter bag and I started shuffling round the ward. It wasn’t long before my mobility was noticed, the catheter was removed and I was “fitted” with crutches.
‘These days, if you wish to watch television, or make or receive a telephone call, you are expected to subscribe to an expensive private service. Since I rather object to the idea of private business making a profit at the expense of hospital patients, I kept my mobile phone with me (well hidden!) and did not watch television during my stay.
‘It strikes me as odd that the hospital has a restaurant that serves excellent value-for-money meals to staff and visitors, and yet food for the patients is transported half way across the country. No doubt leaving a monster carbon footprint in its wake!
‘So, we had sandwiches with the bread so dry in crunched; mashed potato that spread itself across the plate in a grey, tasteless, soggy mess; peas that the Royal Navy of yore could have used to supplement grape shot and a lasagne that looked and felt more like peanut brittle!
‘We were lucky if we were offered three hot drinks in a day, although we were reminded to drink lots of water!
‘Needless to say I lost weight in hospital!
‘As my time in hospital progressed, it quickly became obvious that there were members of the staff who had a sense of vocation and worked their socks off, while some of their colleagues were happy to drift along doing as little as possible.
‘One young male staff nurse had time for everybody, tending to our needs, answering our questions and happily “walking the extra mile” for us.
‘Another, equally dedicated female staff nurse, to whom we complained about the terrible state of the toilet, cleaned it herself when she found that nothing had been done to improve its condition 24 hours later.
‘Realising that lavatory cleaning did not appear to be a major priority at the hospital, as soon as I was physically able I got into the habit of cleaning the more obvious stains in this particular facility before I felt I could use it.
‘Never the deepest of sleepers, I frequently awoke shivering because the hopelessly inadequate double glazing allowed as much draught into the ward as if the windows were open. One night I took my crutches for a walk in an effort to warm myself up, only to find that all the night staff were wearing outdoor coats because of the cold!
‘One day a staff nurse came to everyone with injections to the stomach. He said we would have to d thus ourselves for a number of weeks after our release from hospital and that the injected drug was to thin our blood. When I was eventually released nothing was said about these injections and no drug or equipment was provided. From my subsequent research I believe the drug to be heparin and its purpose is to avoid thrombosis!
‘One of my fellow patients, known to be somewhat volatile, exploded one day because he asked the same question several time and was given an equal number of different, evasive answers! There was an awful fuss and he was labelled “difficult”.
‘On Thursday I was told to be ready because I was about to be taken for an X-ray. That eventually happened on Saturday. I was then told that the only reason I couldn’t go home was because I had to be fitted with a special corset and the relevant department that handled such equipment didn’t work at weekends.
‘So, on Monday one of the nursing staff put a tape measure round my middle at which time I found out that these specially fitted corsets actually only came in standard small, medium, large or extra large sizes. Wow!
‘Anyway, once I was wearing the extremely uncomfortable undergarment I was told I could telephone my wife to come and collect me. The first person to actually explain to me why I had to wear the corset was the physiotherapist who I saw some two weeks after being released from
‘Having phoned home I was told my bed was needed and I was immediately moved to a room which I think was called the “discharge suite”. There I sat in an extremely uncomfortable chair whilst my wife drove to
‘I freely admit that I wept with relied most of the way home. Once there I removed my “fitted” corset because it was so uncomfortable and found a series of bruises where it had chafed and squeezed my flesh.
‘I am sorry to say that I would have to be very, very ill and in incredible pain, before anyone could persuade me to go back to
‘By the way, my shoulder still hurts and is the major source of pain!’
*************
I don’t know about you, but some parts of the letter reminded me of scenes from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Of course that film was set in an American lunatic asylum, whereas what happened to my correspondent took place in a British NHS hospital here in the 21st Century. It is both depressing and worrying that this is not a rare complaint, but is one that can be replicated in many hospitals up and down the country.
But the most shocking thing about this story is that I am not shocked. Such tales of indifferent treatment, poor food, dirty toilets, off-hand staff, inadequate information and a “conveyor belt” mentality towards patients are legion.
I am a supporter of the NHS. I was born in 1948, the same year the NHS was founded, and I have used it ever since. My two sisters and brother-in-law work in the NHS. I know that most of the staff working in the NHS are dedicated, caring people, however, I am sure that they would agree there is something dreadfully wrong with a system that lets a patient leave its care with such a negative perception.
Read his words again: “I am sorry to say that I would have to be very, very ill and in incredible pain, before anyone could persuade me to go back to
For a patient to be left feeling that way is scandalous, but what is worse is that this particular complainant has asked to remain anonymous because he is frightened that because of his condition he will be obliged to use Medway Hospital again and is fearful that he will be discriminated against because if his complaint.
However, he does want his case highlighted because, as he says: “I would at least have the comfort of knowing that maybe something could be done to make other peoples’ hospital experience more tolerable”.
Gordon Henderson
May 4th 2008
Gordon Henderson is the Conservative Parliamentary Candidate for Sittingbourne & Sheppey.
Friday, May 02, 2008
The Wooden Bowl
A Friend of mine who re discovered the Christian Faith sent the following:
The Wooden BowlI guarantee you will remember the tale of the Wooden Bowltomorrow, a week from now, a month from now, a year from now.A frail old man went to live with his son,daughter-in-law, and four-year - old grandson.
The oldman's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and hisstep faltered.The family ate together at the table. But the elderlygrandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eatingdifficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. Whenhe grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth.
The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with themess. 'We must do something about father,' said the son. 'I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, andfood on the floor.'So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the familyenjoyed dinner. Since Grandfather had broken a dish ortwo, his food was served in a wooden bowl.When the family glanced in Grandfather's direction,sometimes he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharpadmonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food.
The four-year-old watched it all in silence.One evening before supper, the father noticed his sonplaying with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the childsweetly, 'What are you making?' Just as sweetly, the boyresponded, 'Oh, I am making a little bowl for you andMama to eat your food in when I grow up. ' Thefour-year-old smiled and went back to work.The words so struck the parents so that they werespeechless. Then tears started to stream down their cheeks.Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done.That evening the husband took Grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table. For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family.And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed tocare any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, orthe tablecloth soiled.On a positive note,
I've learned that, no matter whathappens, how bad it seems today, life does go on, and itwill be better tomorrow.
I've learned that you can tell a lot about a person by theway he/she handles four things: a rainy day, the elderly,lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights.
I've learned that, regardless of your relationship withyour parents, you'll miss them when they're gone fromyour life.I've learned that making a 'living' is not the same thingas making a 'life..'I've learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance.
I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands. You need to be able tothrow something backI've learned that if you pursue happiness, it will eludeyou But, if you focus on your family, your friends, theneeds of others, your work and doing the very best youcan, happiness will find youI've learned that whenever I decide something with anopen heart, I usually make the right decision
.I've learned that even when I have pains, I don't have tobe one.
I've learned that every day, you should reach out andtouch someone.People love that human touch -- holding hands, a warm hug,or just a friendly pat on the back.
I've learned that
I still have a lot to learn.I've learned that you should pass this on to everyone youcare about
.I just did.
The Wooden BowlI guarantee you will remember the tale of the Wooden Bowltomorrow, a week from now, a month from now, a year from now.A frail old man went to live with his son,daughter-in-law, and four-year - old grandson.
The oldman's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and hisstep faltered.The family ate together at the table. But the elderlygrandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eatingdifficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. Whenhe grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth.
The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with themess. 'We must do something about father,' said the son. 'I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, andfood on the floor.'So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the familyenjoyed dinner. Since Grandfather had broken a dish ortwo, his food was served in a wooden bowl.When the family glanced in Grandfather's direction,sometimes he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharpadmonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food.
The four-year-old watched it all in silence.One evening before supper, the father noticed his sonplaying with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the childsweetly, 'What are you making?' Just as sweetly, the boyresponded, 'Oh, I am making a little bowl for you andMama to eat your food in when I grow up. ' Thefour-year-old smiled and went back to work.The words so struck the parents so that they werespeechless. Then tears started to stream down their cheeks.Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done.That evening the husband took Grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table. For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family.And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed tocare any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, orthe tablecloth soiled.On a positive note,
I've learned that, no matter whathappens, how bad it seems today, life does go on, and itwill be better tomorrow.
I've learned that you can tell a lot about a person by theway he/she handles four things: a rainy day, the elderly,lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights.
I've learned that, regardless of your relationship withyour parents, you'll miss them when they're gone fromyour life.I've learned that making a 'living' is not the same thingas making a 'life..'I've learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance.
I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands. You need to be able tothrow something backI've learned that if you pursue happiness, it will eludeyou But, if you focus on your family, your friends, theneeds of others, your work and doing the very best youcan, happiness will find youI've learned that whenever I decide something with anopen heart, I usually make the right decision
.I've learned that even when I have pains, I don't have tobe one.
I've learned that every day, you should reach out andtouch someone.People love that human touch -- holding hands, a warm hug,or just a friendly pat on the back.
I've learned that
I still have a lot to learn.I've learned that you should pass this on to everyone youcare about
.I just did.
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