One gets all philosophical occasionally, when one has been saved, not once but twice by the wonders of modern medicine. Twice? I hear you say. Well techically speaking if it were not for the little tablet of thyroxine that I swallow every day, my body would by now have ground to a halt. When presented by my GP with the prospect of popping a pill every day, I asked: what will happen if I don't? Your body will eventually grind to halt said he.
So as I contemplate the twice-gratefulness which I have for the NHS, I often wonder why. Why me? Was it the diet? Was it the counselling? Was it simply that I psychologically I wasn't ready to leave? And, in moments when I wonder if there really is a great CEO in the sky, who through some amazing stroke of organisation, charts each task, each thought of mine, I contemplate that maybe there is some important mission for which my saving was necessary.
It could be that it's tonight when once again I appear before the development control committee of our local council and once again I point out that the council's officers don't know what they're talking about - and am able to prove it this time with a photograph. I know that the current activity which I and many of my neighbours are engaged in has been an enormous waste of time for all concerned. Hundreds, probably thousands of pounds, have been expended - and months down the line we're no further forward.
So once more we charge into battle, once more we will hear the officers speak about things that they have refused (well, there's no other possible explanation) to investigate sufficiently. We should win this round hands down particularly (she says with her tongue fimrly in her cheek) if this is the reason I've been saved. Otherwise, why bother? But there again..... I'll post when I know.