“like Walt Disney leading the Borg”

I’ve failed miserably in keeping this daily (like a Christian), mainly as I have nothing interesting to write about. I’m a bore that way. Other people write my thoughts far more articulately than I do, so why bother?

As it is, I ended up in Dudley today.

I got there by train – a journey fraught with worry and fear concerning the train ticket I purchased last night, which happened to be a non-peak fare one for a Young Person. My journey was at 7.23am. A PEAK TIME!

What was I going to do if they didn’t let me on the train?

I’d miss my important meeting and not be able to write my report and be left with the £40 bill for the train journey to pay myself when I have fuck all money as it and then I’d have to explain to my boss I made a mistake and I’m awful at my job and and shouldn’t be allowed to go visit places like Dudley on my own, or indeed at all, and she’d explain to her boss how I’ve ruined a good product and pissed off potential clients and she’d tell the MD who’d look at a history of failure, mistakes and incompetence and have no choice but to fire me.

They let me on the train.

I liked the journey. I had been awake since 5.45am (I plan for things in the future thinking I’ll likely be dead by then so i won’t have to get up early – no such like) so I closed my eyes and let the Midlands roll past without a care.

I was talking to people in an NHS Direct institution about telehealth – which is quite a simple, nice idea of installing machines in people’s homes than can monitor the important health signs like blood pressure, heart-rate et al in people with chronic conditions so they don’t have to continually visit a GP, or not realise how they’re own health is looking, leading to an increased risk of being admitted to hospital.

I like this idea. I approve.

I was shown around by polished PR people, shined up to the eyeballs with glee and a passion to assimilate, like Walt Disney leading the Borg.

They offered biscuits and tea and egg wraps (egg wraps!?!?!). I accepted.

I talked to a man with COPD and diabetes who was attached to oxygen 24/7, and had been so for three years. He couldn’t walk or hear without aid. He loved his grandchildren.

I don’t really have a point there. Or in any of this. I’ve written it now though. And you’ve read it. We can’t change the fact. deal with it.

The realisation that a lot of people in this game are just as clueless as me also filled me with some joy today. Of my fellow journo sorts on this outing, only two looked above 25 (including the health editor of The Times, who looked at me like I was on idiot when I made a joke about a mound – “ooooh, look at me stuck behind my ivory paywall”) and none seemed any more clued up than I was on the rise of generic competition over the next few years, and the complete dismantling and building back together of a UK health system.

The only thing that gives me confidence is other people’s lack of knowledge.

That is what I learned today.

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