‘The consultant will see you now’ the nurse said, ‘follow me.’
So, we did, me pushing Bert’s wheelchair along in her wake, wheezing to keep pace.
‘Left here,’ she breezed, and we duly followed but Bert suddenly burst into song:
‘Will you close your hearts to suffering? Will you sell our NHS? Leave health to corporate interests, which will leave us in a mess? When people get together, when we lose our stupid fear. There’s masses more of us than you here!’
‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘he’s taken a turn for the verse.’