On Saturday evening my daughter Li'l Wurzel came home claiming that her foot was too painful to walk properly. New school shoes had rubbed her heel, but as her sister pointed out, it hadn't stopped her walking around the shops, and Dad being Dad decided that she was just trying yet another excuse for me to do her paper round for her.
By Sunday morning even I was admitting that yes, it did look more than a little swollen and very hot and red. We had a birthday party to go to so we stayed for an hour before making our excuses and left, heading for the local NHS Walk-In Centre. Within 20 minutes she'd been seen, diagnosed with an infected blister that was still spreading up her leg and would get worse before it got better, wound dressed, advice given, course of anti-biotics dispensed, and on our way home. All done in a caring and friendly manner. A total contrast to tales of long waiting lists and people left unattended for hours.
Of course we could have just been lucky with the timing, it could yet be that they got it wrong and her leg falls off, but yesterdays experience was the NHS at it's best.
(If only they had a mobile phone department, maybe they'd be able to get my Nokia up and running again after it decided to dive into a cup if tea later the same afternoon.)