badge in at the same door at half seven. You walk past your own clinic and you go to an office on the fourth floor and you do audit work that a band five could do, and at one o’clock you go to the same canteen as everybody who knows.
Fourteen months of that.
Three people stopped speaking to me. I am not going to name them. Two of them were at my wedding.
Eleven people were extraordinary — the sister, Bernadine, who rang me every Sunday for a year; a
