All I ever wanted to be.....

A week and a half ago, Lucy Mangan wrote volubly in the Guardian about a Christmas incident when she was a teenager where her father presented her and her sister each with a slice of hick chic all the way from Carolina when he was posted there for work. All in all, her description of the dressed-up lumber shirts had me in stitches (sic). However, funny as her column was, I could not touch base with Lucy – no one has ever presented me with a slice of backwoods’ bling. Next weekend, however, I squealed in empathy with Victoria Coren’s column in the Observer . Victoria gripes over how us women are supposed to appear at our most glamorous at the darkest, coldest, wettest or frostiest time of year, while the boys are permitted to stay snug as rug bugs in sensible suits and boots. Even as a child, I puzzled over the fashion spreads in December magazines; painted females in trip-me-up shoes and gold foil dresses that began somewhere just above the bosom and ended halfway down the thigh. In the time and place I spent my formative years, not even the average winter ensemble of wools and furry cottons prevented me from sporting the glorious accessory of a snuffly head cold on 25/12. No, I never was the fairy on top of the Christmas tree.

In memory of Jacintha Saldanha

When I heard of the telephone prank on the nurses at the King Edward VII hospital, I did not punch the air and laugh at the royals – no. Apparently, two well-paid broadcasters “down unda” had nothing better to do but attack hard-working, working-class people. In light of the latest news, I hope that they are proud of themselves and their fools’ project. Let me make one thing clear, I have no personal agenda in writing this. I have no ties with the medical profession, apart from having once had to spend a few days in hospital where I was very well cared for by the staff. They put up with my post-op groaning and moaning, grumbling and whingeing. Multiply that many times over, and I wonder why anyone, anywhere wants to nurse for a living. But still they do it. They put up with the hard labour and the low pay, the grumbling and groaning from people like me, the lifting and carrying, the phials of blood and other bodily fluids. In return, they are lampooned and trivialised, humbled and sent up in every possible way. A quick spot of Googling, and you can access millions of “naughty nurse” and “sexy nurse” outfits – yes, they are presented as sex maniacs, as well. How long will it take for us to see the truth, that the nurse is a highly-trained, hard-working professional? All I can do is extend my deepest sympathy to the family, friends and colleagues of the late Jacintha Saldanha.