Mad WorldChristmas 2007 “It’s a mad world!” “It sure is”. “No, I mean that was another good one. Mad World by erhm... Gary
Jules. “Originally by Tears for Fears.” “Yes but the old ones are coming back aren’t they? Looked over for many a year but now people realise they still had something left in 'em. Still had much to offer”. “Like?” “Who.” “Yes, who?” “Oh, The Who?” “Take That.” “Oh yes — and Spice Girls!” “And Pink Floyd.” “And the Police.” “Boyzone.” “And the Beatles”. “Erh... I think not” “Okay, got carried away there.” “Still many a tune to be played on an old piano, That’s for sure,” concluded Norm. “Fiddle! Anyway, how you enjoying the old retirement then? Got a good nest egg?” Norman, the Uni lecturer used to join me occasionally Down at the EPR Arms. He had recently decided to take his early retirement. “Brilliant! Life’s for living, not working.” We had met up in town — both of us doing our last minute Christmas shopping. “I wonder what ever happened to the old EPR Arms?” “Got taken over. New lot came in and just took it over. No regard for us lot. Ripped everything out. Ignored our protestations. We were all history. End of. Gone. So I now go to the Ferret and Ratchet down the road!” “And the EPR Arms is now a noisy echo-ey wine bar isn’t it. All browns and creams and leather. All Cappuccino and Hessian. The world's moved on,” I said “And left us behind!” replied Norm. “'Appen!” “EPR Arms. It was cosy wasn’t it. I miss it”. Said Norm as we sipped our coffees, grabbing five minutes in the eye of the shopping storm. This is what happens when you leave it too late. Six years ago, when Trev's oven mitts set alight. What a dinner that was.” “The Christmas quiz in '02. Happy Days. Happy Days.” “And it was four years ago — 2003, when we had the carol. Do you remember that one?” “Do I!” and we both closed our eyes and reminisced: The following article was first published in 2003. This was the first Christmas under the NPfIT. It was a time of great expectations. The EPR Arms, December 2003 Not-so-musical notes from the battered honky-tonk piano wafted on the cool Yuletide breeze straight out of the door I’d opened as I made my way in to a special carol-singing night down at the EPR Arms. Turning from the bar, I noticed a large group bending over a notepad on a table in the corner. The log fire was burning, adding to the general bonhomie of a cold Christmas evening. “Don’t forget the nurses”, said Penny Appleton, one of the nurses from across the road. “You always leave the nurses out of everything”, she continued. “Yes, but what do nurses do?”, asked Robert Mc-Strachan. A somewhat odd question from a surgeon, I thought. “Well — we care, we clean, we console, we treat, we nurse, we ...” ”That’s it!” said McStrachan. “Nurses nurse!” “OK then. What about you surgeons?”, replied Penny. “What do you do? Hurt? Cut? Cure? Maim?” “No — we surge!”, said a smiling McStrachan. “I’m a surgeon who surges.” “Don’t forget the patients”, said Albert with a rustling in his trousers. His ferret was looking for a treat. “We patients, we...” “Wait?” suggested Amanda. “Good one! Yes — we wait,” said a smiling Albert. I felt as if I had entered a film half way through. Or begun a book at chapter three, but I still felt obliged to join in, even if I didn’t know what they were on about. “And what do doctors do?” I asked. “Doctors? They, erhhm... scribe”, said Chris Whitehead, a pharmacist, looking as smart as ever with his tweed jacket and matching green pen. “Plinkety-plinkety-plink,” went the piano as Mike the GP, his chubby little fingers transformed into something unbelievably graceful, coaxed merry melodies from keys in dire need of tuning. “Quick!” cried Rupert. “He’s nearly ready. Let’s finish this.” “OK. Managers?” asked a disembodied voice. “Oh, they moan,” said Dave the Chief Exec, cheerfully. “So, enough of people,” said Rupert. “What other hospitally things can we have?” “Foundation hospitals,” said one. “LSPs,” said another. “PACS,” said a third, “and data spine,” as an afterthought. A lot of scribbling and rearranging later, the sounds of carols became discernible from the plink-plonks of the piano. “Away in the manger, no crib for a bed. It’s no wonder they couldn’t find a hotel room in Bethlehem,” said Bob, “it was Christmas!” We smirked and guffawed. “A Christmas riddle for you,” said Rupert. “A generous lawyer, an honest politician and Father Christmas were in a lift. When the door opened they spotted a £20 note. Who picked it up?” “Easy,” said I, “Father Christmas — the others don’t really exist.” Another round of giggles as the atmosphere of the jolly season began to seep in. It’s been a long year, a hard year, a trying year. What will next year be like? I mused. The scrum appeared to be breaking up. “No, it doesn’t scan right. Swap the trainers with the nurses.” What kind of party was this, I thought. Which parallel universe had I been beamed into? “OK everybody. I think we’re now ready,” said Landlord Trev, looking at the smiling GP at the piano, who nodded and swayed his ‘yes’ in time to the rhythm of I Saw Three Ships Come Sailing In. “So, all gather round and let us do it,” said Trev. Throats were cleared, deep breaths were taken and we began to sing:
With a flourish, GP Mike ran his fingers up and down the keyboard and finished with a deep, vibrant, lasting chord. If you remember the previous festivities at the EPR Arms — the Christmas dinner in 2001 and the pop quiz of 2002 — you’ll have noticed we have moved a very long way, and it is with a feeling of great hope that we turn this page on 2003 and look forward to a bright new year. The happy faces around the piano, flushed with drink and seasonal goodwill wished each other a Happy Christmas and prosperous New Year. A sentiment I now extend to you all. Sean Brennan
“But that was 2003. Have you got that NPfITTY thing you were always going on about then?” “Nope.” “Fours years on and you’re still waiting?” “Yip! Los of good stuff has been done but if you think in terms of local hospitals and their clinical systems…" “Didn't you used to call them EPR’s or something?” “...yes — the EPRs. We are nowhere near that.” “And I remember you prattling on about electronic prescribing and stuff that could save lives.” “Yip — no sight of that either yet.” “Four years?” “Yes. There’s been some developments but we are still waiting for these local clinical systems.” Norm put his coffee down and gathered up his various shopping bags. “Why don’t we arrange to meet up next year and so you can tell me if they’ve managed to catch up during '08?” “OK — will do. And before we do that, why don’t we both go to the Wine Bar that was the EPR Arms. Shall we?” “OK. Good plan. So have a good Christmas won’t you.” "Will do — take care Norm." And with that we went back to the shops. Christmas Shopping? It’s a Mad Mad world.
Sean Brennan is Director of Clinical Matrix Ltd Email Sean now with your views and comments at If you want to know more about NHS IT you should read this book:
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