Wednesday, 18 April 2012
Monday, 16 April 2012
The National Health Service
The National Health Service
For years I have heard any number of negative comments regarding Londoners dealings with the NHS however I have to tell you that our experiences have been nothing but positive
A couple of years back we lived in Islington. The local NHS surgery was a five minute stroll from our front door. No appointments required. All you had to do was front up to the counter, they would flick you a number and within a guaranteed thirty minutes your number would flash up on a screen and you would be in business. Appointments were free and any medication required was at minimal cost.
A couple of years down the track in Pimlico and it's the same story
At 1000 hrs one morning Julia chipped her tooth, and bingo, two hours later an NHS approved dentist has her up and running again for £35. If we had her registered the cost would have been even less
A couple of days back I strolled into our local surgery to make an appointment.
I'm chatting away to one of the receptionists and say to her that I've noticed that this surgery seems to cater to a wide diversity of the population who I assumed had different preferences when it came to appointment times.
The receptionist then tells me that free call in surgery times on a Monday morning are a war zone, however during the rest of the week those on a benefit and mothers tended to plug for morning appointments and those hard working types who reside in the Dolphin Square accommodation generally insist on slots before or after work, which leaves the afternoons pretty much free.
And with that I bagged an appointment for 1620hrs.
It probably assisted my cause when I fronted the doctor fully equipped with a copy of my Christchurch Doctors notes so the whole process of nailing blood pressure tablets was all over in ten seconds.
What was really interesting (unlike my ever vigilant genius Doctor Ding in Christchurch) was this local GP's relaxed attitude towards the volume of the prescription.
My new medical buddy Dr Nalliah initially advised that she could only prescribe two months of tablets. I immediately tell her that I'm off to France, won't be around in a couple of months, and suggested she might like to extend the prescribed period to four months
No problem, and with a four month prescription in hand (still leaving me one month short for our total time away) I wander down to the local chemist.
Now the young Indian guy who owns this chemist outlet is one really cool dude. After a couple of minutes we are deep in conversation about the merits of our respective national cricket sides
At this point I think what the hell, you never know unless you ask, so I say to this guy, look I have a slight problem, the doctor only gave me four months supply of these tablets and I actually need five
This guy thinks about it for a couple of seconds and responds, four months, five months, what's the difference, turns around to one of his staff and instructs then to add an additional month.
And that's the thing I've noticed in my short time in London, the approach towards health care is obviously a volume driven thing and as a result , is far more casual than the average Kiwi operation
And as for costs, everything is free, appointment, pills , it's all courtesy of the NHS
So what's the downside.
My feeling is that if you contracted anything really serious and if you had the dosh, you would be best to employ the services of a higher priced medical person. I thing all this free stuff is OK for low hanging fruit type medical issues however I would be a little uneasy if we had a major issue to tackle head on.
Just one other thing which is also common to New Zealand , there is army sized sector of the population who are suffering from any number of medical and social issues varying from mental challenges, medical problems , lack of family, no money etc etc, who are basically living a life where the NHS just throw money at them and leave them to fend for themselves.
And I tell you, if you were on the skids and attempting to survive in London without any realistic expectation of family or state support, then you would be confronted by the mother of all challenges.
This city is just the greatest place to live if you are upwardly mobile or on top of your game. However it's a bloody jungle for any who have fallen off their perch
Cheers, and good health!
Sent from my iPad
For years I have heard any number of negative comments regarding Londoners dealings with the NHS however I have to tell you that our experiences have been nothing but positive
A couple of years back we lived in Islington. The local NHS surgery was a five minute stroll from our front door. No appointments required. All you had to do was front up to the counter, they would flick you a number and within a guaranteed thirty minutes your number would flash up on a screen and you would be in business. Appointments were free and any medication required was at minimal cost.
A couple of years down the track in Pimlico and it's the same story
At 1000 hrs one morning Julia chipped her tooth, and bingo, two hours later an NHS approved dentist has her up and running again for £35. If we had her registered the cost would have been even less
A couple of days back I strolled into our local surgery to make an appointment.
I'm chatting away to one of the receptionists and say to her that I've noticed that this surgery seems to cater to a wide diversity of the population who I assumed had different preferences when it came to appointment times.
The receptionist then tells me that free call in surgery times on a Monday morning are a war zone, however during the rest of the week those on a benefit and mothers tended to plug for morning appointments and those hard working types who reside in the Dolphin Square accommodation generally insist on slots before or after work, which leaves the afternoons pretty much free.
And with that I bagged an appointment for 1620hrs.
It probably assisted my cause when I fronted the doctor fully equipped with a copy of my Christchurch Doctors notes so the whole process of nailing blood pressure tablets was all over in ten seconds.
What was really interesting (unlike my ever vigilant genius Doctor Ding in Christchurch) was this local GP's relaxed attitude towards the volume of the prescription.
My new medical buddy Dr Nalliah initially advised that she could only prescribe two months of tablets. I immediately tell her that I'm off to France, won't be around in a couple of months, and suggested she might like to extend the prescribed period to four months
No problem, and with a four month prescription in hand (still leaving me one month short for our total time away) I wander down to the local chemist.
Now the young Indian guy who owns this chemist outlet is one really cool dude. After a couple of minutes we are deep in conversation about the merits of our respective national cricket sides
At this point I think what the hell, you never know unless you ask, so I say to this guy, look I have a slight problem, the doctor only gave me four months supply of these tablets and I actually need five
This guy thinks about it for a couple of seconds and responds, four months, five months, what's the difference, turns around to one of his staff and instructs then to add an additional month.
And that's the thing I've noticed in my short time in London, the approach towards health care is obviously a volume driven thing and as a result , is far more casual than the average Kiwi operation
And as for costs, everything is free, appointment, pills , it's all courtesy of the NHS
So what's the downside.
My feeling is that if you contracted anything really serious and if you had the dosh, you would be best to employ the services of a higher priced medical person. I thing all this free stuff is OK for low hanging fruit type medical issues however I would be a little uneasy if we had a major issue to tackle head on.
Just one other thing which is also common to New Zealand , there is army sized sector of the population who are suffering from any number of medical and social issues varying from mental challenges, medical problems , lack of family, no money etc etc, who are basically living a life where the NHS just throw money at them and leave them to fend for themselves.
And I tell you, if you were on the skids and attempting to survive in London without any realistic expectation of family or state support, then you would be confronted by the mother of all challenges.
This city is just the greatest place to live if you are upwardly mobile or on top of your game. However it's a bloody jungle for any who have fallen off their perch
Cheers, and good health!
Sent from my iPad
Sunday, 8 April 2012
Life Continues
 |
| The fifth encore, the Messiah, Royal Albert Hall |
 |
| Eggcellent! The big egg hunt. |
 |
| The Harp in Chandos Place just off Trafalgar Square. A great location to kick back and watch the world go by |
 |
| 110 Hyde Park Place. The width of this house varies between 30 and 36 six inches |
Life Continues
Overview for the past week or so.
Monday 26 March we checked out the National Army Museum with an excellent exhibition on war horses. I thought of you Kath while appreciating the amount of work these beautiful animals endured during the wars. I have to take my hat off to the British as this museum is wonderful.
As this museum is in Chelsea we wandered home and found ourselves walking through the grounds of The Royal Hospital Chelsea mixing it up with the men in red. These Chelsea Pensioners seem to live a monastic life but look resplendent in their red coats and garb. A very peaceful experience.
Tuesday 27 March started with a very scary moment when a nasty little cornflake broke my tooth. A cornflake! Of course to see a dentist or doctor here, one must register in advance at the practice, so there was a bit of a panic as the nerve was exposed and I was starting to climb the wall. I had visions of Tom Hanks in Castaway making home dentistry my new hobby. Luckily after many phone calls & visits I got it sorted with a temporary filling. The lovely Indian dentist so charming in his turban said it may not last a week! So far so good. A hear a crown coming on.
Wednesday 28 March we spent the morning at one of our favourite colourful spots, Camden. I always feel I have been dropped onto another planet here as everything is so vibrant, bustling and a bit crazy.
That evening was a highlight for me. 'She Stoops to Conquer' at the National Theatre. An ingenious English comedy of chaos, courtship and the dysfunction family. Katherine Kelly (Becky from Coro) was brilliant.
Thursday 29 March - John has given you the run down on this one - Another Boring Thursday(not).
Friday 30 March. Another highlight 'Vivaldi and Handel by Candlelight'' at St Martin in the Fields. We had front seats so we could see the perspiration on the musicians brows and feel their concentration. Uplifting and exciting.
Post concert, standing outside the church waiting for the bus our senses were shaken. About 2000 cyclists, skateboarders, cycle taxis and anything on wheels appeared from Haymarket. Some had flashing lights and boom-boxes attached, so it was a real spectacle. They made their way through Trafalgar Square and then disappeared down The Strand. The noisy colourful mass of jostling cyclists, some toppling and crashing, who brought the traffic to a halt for at least 15 minutes and not a copper in sight. Just as quickly as they appeared, they disappeared and we jumped upon our #360 bus and made our way home.
Saturday 31 March was mooching around Oxford Street Day. John had to pull me out of the Christian Louboutin shoe department at Selfridges. Just love those red soled French beauties. Real ART.
Sunday 1 April. A very cool spring day. Our first plan was to visit Apsley House, a gift to the Duke of Wellington by a grateful nation. Well worth a visit!
This residence with the address No1 London, was definitely Party Central whilst D of W was alive and kicking. It had fallen on to hard times but is now restored to it's former glory. I must mention here that Napoleon Bonaparte plays a big part in the D of W history especially when you are confronted by a 3-4 metre tall marble naked statue of the little Emperor/ little General.
Back in Hyde Park munching on hot dogs ( I know, but when in Rome) we watched about 500 in-line skaters assemble, then file off in snake-like fashion down Knightsbridge completely stuffing traffic flow in the process. A brilliant sight on such a crisp, spring London day.
Then off to Marble Arch to check out No 10 Hyde Park Place ( London's smallest house). Erected in 1810 over an alley-way entrance in an effort to stop grave robbers stealing recently buried corpses of those who had the misfortune of being hung. The Public Hanging Gallows was just along from Marble Arch. This skinny house is spartan to say the least, the ground floor behind the front door is just an alley, 1st floor is a tiny bathroom, 2nd floor an equally small sized bedroom, accommodation only a nun would love. In fact this property and the one next to it had been taken over by a group of nuns who have sworn a vow of silence so they could concentrate on praying for the souls of the many now, long- dead,hanging victims.
Monday 2 April. We had BIG plans for the day...but these were destroyed in one foul blow! ***T R A F F I C *** J A M****
This mother of all traffic jams was at Victoria and being on the upper deck of our lovely red London bus we had a one hour, bird's eye view of the chaos & mayhem.
My goodness, me thinks, what on earth will the Olympics do to this city???
So, we flagged Plan A and switched to Plan B by finally reaching Trafalgar Square, staggering off the bus and found ourselves in 'The Harp'. This was voted Britain's Best Pub 2011 ( I suggest that Binnie, the landlady rigged the result). Then to fantastic Leadenhall to have a drink with the local gentry in 'Broker's Wine Bar' overlooking the grand halls. At first I thought that women were not allowed in this establishment as I felt conspicuous being the only female but after a while a couple of fine dames sauntered in. Phew!
Tuesday 3 April and we checked out The Jewish Museum.
Our only comment is that the nine million pound make-over has produced a fantastic facility in Camden. Also, have to say it was a little freaky when approaching the bomb-proof front entrance armed by two burley guards. The front door of this fortress was at least 20cm thick steel and reinforced glass. The ageing, enthusiastic volunteer guides were apiece of work in themselves, being highly intelligent and very knowledgeable. They had a great sense of humour and didn't hold back expressing their views. Good stuff.
Now we finished off the day at Ronnie Scott's with the pleasure of a unique experience listening to an 'A' grade nutbag Sarah Gillespie. An interesting musician-songwriter living in a bit of a time warp. She'd be the perfect 1960's weekend urban guerilla. Her latest and self-proclaimed masterpiece is a thing called 'War With Trevor' - a 15 minute diatribe which extols the virtues of the dysfunctional and lambasts the middle,upper class, politicians, business people and meat eaters.
It was a Double Bill and the second act was the main act of the evening being a punky jazz combo 'Get the Blessing' led by the brilliant bassist ex Portishead.
We loved it, especially the female drummer Daisy Palmer who had an uncanny resemblance to my friend Doc Martin- Vicki.
Wednesday 4 April and a lovely morning in Covent Garden checking out the 210 eggs of The Big Egg Hunt. These hand-painted and cleverly designed eggs had been spotted all over London but were now scattered across Covent Garden. A magic sight.
Now this evening we had booked ourselves to hear Christy Moore a legendary Irish singer-songwriter who we knew little about,perform at the Royal Festival Hall. We were warned, when we took our seats by the young Irishman next to me that most of the audience would by Irish and possibly had had a few, a bit like him. We did notice a distinctive smell of Guinness wafting throughout the auditorium. This guy also anticipated that there might be some hecklers, shouting and quite a bit of audience participation. We were ready and strapped ourselves in for the bumpy ride. The 3000 sell-out crowd went nuts over this ageing Irish troubadour and his trusty sidekick guitarist Declan or Deccy as Christy called him. It was an emotionally charged concert. Christy's Irish accent was so strong and the lyrics so Irish ( you know what I mean ) we couldn't understand a thing at times.
This was a one-set concert so NO breaks with the inevitable repercussion of endless devotees with full bladders washing around their systems.Throughout the entire concert there was a constant flow of weavers and staggerers bumping to and fro to the loos like dogem cars at a fairground, with no thought to keeping quiet in the process. When returning they invariably got themselves lost and one could hear 'Seamus, over here' or ' Sean, back here'. All of this was quite normal and no one battered an eyelid. It was just the way it is when you go to a concert attended by 3000 Irish fans. Wouldn't have it any other way.
Thursday 7 April took us back to the Apple Store at Covent Garden, the ultimate one-stop shop where the staff will sort all your problems. Our heros.
We decided to splurge this evening and had booked ourselves into a delightful 50 year old French Provincial restaurant just off Square called ' La Poule au Pot'. I was all geared up to speak French all evening which was great fun. One thing I noticed was that at most of the tables around us at least one person at each table could speak excellent French. Well, it was Sloane Square darling, and I guess most of the clientele spend their hols in France.
Good Friday 6 April - The Messiah at The Royal Albert Hall 2.30pm matinee
An uplifting experience and highly charged performance. Everyone stood to attention during the Hallelujah chorus which brought a tear to the eye. Five encores which indicates the level of appreciation.
That brings us up to date as John has supplied a run down on our frantic Saturday at the Oxford/Cambridge boat race on the Thames yesterday.
Until next time. Cheers Julia
Monday 26 March we checked out the National Army Museum with an excellent exhibition on war horses. I thought of you Kath while appreciating the amount of work these beautiful animals endured during the wars. I have to take my hat off to the British as this museum is wonderful.
As this museum is in Chelsea we wandered home and found ourselves walking through the grounds of The Royal Hospital Chelsea mixing it up with the men in red. These Chelsea Pensioners seem to live a monastic life but look resplendent in their red coats and garb. A very peaceful experience.
Tuesday 27 March started with a very scary moment when a nasty little cornflake broke my tooth. A cornflake! Of course to see a dentist or doctor here, one must register in advance at the practice, so there was a bit of a panic as the nerve was exposed and I was starting to climb the wall. I had visions of Tom Hanks in Castaway making home dentistry my new hobby. Luckily after many phone calls & visits I got it sorted with a temporary filling. The lovely Indian dentist so charming in his turban said it may not last a week! So far so good. A hear a crown coming on.
Wednesday 28 March we spent the morning at one of our favourite colourful spots, Camden. I always feel I have been dropped onto another planet here as everything is so vibrant, bustling and a bit crazy.
That evening was a highlight for me. 'She Stoops to Conquer' at the National Theatre. An ingenious English comedy of chaos, courtship and the dysfunction family. Katherine Kelly (Becky from Coro) was brilliant.
Thursday 29 March - John has given you the run down on this one - Another Boring Thursday(not).
Friday 30 March. Another highlight 'Vivaldi and Handel by Candlelight'' at St Martin in the Fields. We had front seats so we could see the perspiration on the musicians brows and feel their concentration. Uplifting and exciting.
Post concert, standing outside the church waiting for the bus our senses were shaken. About 2000 cyclists, skateboarders, cycle taxis and anything on wheels appeared from Haymarket. Some had flashing lights and boom-boxes attached, so it was a real spectacle. They made their way through Trafalgar Square and then disappeared down The Strand. The noisy colourful mass of jostling cyclists, some toppling and crashing, who brought the traffic to a halt for at least 15 minutes and not a copper in sight. Just as quickly as they appeared, they disappeared and we jumped upon our #360 bus and made our way home.
Saturday 31 March was mooching around Oxford Street Day. John had to pull me out of the Christian Louboutin shoe department at Selfridges. Just love those red soled French beauties. Real ART.
Sunday 1 April. A very cool spring day. Our first plan was to visit Apsley House, a gift to the Duke of Wellington by a grateful nation. Well worth a visit!
This residence with the address No1 London, was definitely Party Central whilst D of W was alive and kicking. It had fallen on to hard times but is now restored to it's former glory. I must mention here that Napoleon Bonaparte plays a big part in the D of W history especially when you are confronted by a 3-4 metre tall marble naked statue of the little Emperor/ little General.
Back in Hyde Park munching on hot dogs ( I know, but when in Rome) we watched about 500 in-line skaters assemble, then file off in snake-like fashion down Knightsbridge completely stuffing traffic flow in the process. A brilliant sight on such a crisp, spring London day.
Then off to Marble Arch to check out No 10 Hyde Park Place ( London's smallest house). Erected in 1810 over an alley-way entrance in an effort to stop grave robbers stealing recently buried corpses of those who had the misfortune of being hung. The Public Hanging Gallows was just along from Marble Arch. This skinny house is spartan to say the least, the ground floor behind the front door is just an alley, 1st floor is a tiny bathroom, 2nd floor an equally small sized bedroom, accommodation only a nun would love. In fact this property and the one next to it had been taken over by a group of nuns who have sworn a vow of silence so they could concentrate on praying for the souls of the many now, long- dead,hanging victims.
Monday 2 April. We had BIG plans for the day...but these were destroyed in one foul blow! ***T R A F F I C *** J A M****
This mother of all traffic jams was at Victoria and being on the upper deck of our lovely red London bus we had a one hour, bird's eye view of the chaos & mayhem.
My goodness, me thinks, what on earth will the Olympics do to this city???
So, we flagged Plan A and switched to Plan B by finally reaching Trafalgar Square, staggering off the bus and found ourselves in 'The Harp'. This was voted Britain's Best Pub 2011 ( I suggest that Binnie, the landlady rigged the result). Then to fantastic Leadenhall to have a drink with the local gentry in 'Broker's Wine Bar' overlooking the grand halls. At first I thought that women were not allowed in this establishment as I felt conspicuous being the only female but after a while a couple of fine dames sauntered in. Phew!
Tuesday 3 April and we checked out The Jewish Museum.
Our only comment is that the nine million pound make-over has produced a fantastic facility in Camden. Also, have to say it was a little freaky when approaching the bomb-proof front entrance armed by two burley guards. The front door of this fortress was at least 20cm thick steel and reinforced glass. The ageing, enthusiastic volunteer guides were apiece of work in themselves, being highly intelligent and very knowledgeable. They had a great sense of humour and didn't hold back expressing their views. Good stuff.
Now we finished off the day at Ronnie Scott's with the pleasure of a unique experience listening to an 'A' grade nutbag Sarah Gillespie. An interesting musician-songwriter living in a bit of a time warp. She'd be the perfect 1960's weekend urban guerilla. Her latest and self-proclaimed masterpiece is a thing called 'War With Trevor' - a 15 minute diatribe which extols the virtues of the dysfunctional and lambasts the middle,upper class, politicians, business people and meat eaters.
It was a Double Bill and the second act was the main act of the evening being a punky jazz combo 'Get the Blessing' led by the brilliant bassist ex Portishead.
We loved it, especially the female drummer Daisy Palmer who had an uncanny resemblance to my friend Doc Martin- Vicki.
Wednesday 4 April and a lovely morning in Covent Garden checking out the 210 eggs of The Big Egg Hunt. These hand-painted and cleverly designed eggs had been spotted all over London but were now scattered across Covent Garden. A magic sight.
Now this evening we had booked ourselves to hear Christy Moore a legendary Irish singer-songwriter who we knew little about,perform at the Royal Festival Hall. We were warned, when we took our seats by the young Irishman next to me that most of the audience would by Irish and possibly had had a few, a bit like him. We did notice a distinctive smell of Guinness wafting throughout the auditorium. This guy also anticipated that there might be some hecklers, shouting and quite a bit of audience participation. We were ready and strapped ourselves in for the bumpy ride. The 3000 sell-out crowd went nuts over this ageing Irish troubadour and his trusty sidekick guitarist Declan or Deccy as Christy called him. It was an emotionally charged concert. Christy's Irish accent was so strong and the lyrics so Irish ( you know what I mean ) we couldn't understand a thing at times.
This was a one-set concert so NO breaks with the inevitable repercussion of endless devotees with full bladders washing around their systems.Throughout the entire concert there was a constant flow of weavers and staggerers bumping to and fro to the loos like dogem cars at a fairground, with no thought to keeping quiet in the process. When returning they invariably got themselves lost and one could hear 'Seamus, over here' or ' Sean, back here'. All of this was quite normal and no one battered an eyelid. It was just the way it is when you go to a concert attended by 3000 Irish fans. Wouldn't have it any other way.
Thursday 7 April took us back to the Apple Store at Covent Garden, the ultimate one-stop shop where the staff will sort all your problems. Our heros.
We decided to splurge this evening and had booked ourselves into a delightful 50 year old French Provincial restaurant just off Square called ' La Poule au Pot'. I was all geared up to speak French all evening which was great fun. One thing I noticed was that at most of the tables around us at least one person at each table could speak excellent French. Well, it was Sloane Square darling, and I guess most of the clientele spend their hols in France.
Good Friday 6 April - The Messiah at The Royal Albert Hall 2.30pm matinee
An uplifting experience and highly charged performance. Everyone stood to attention during the Hallelujah chorus which brought a tear to the eye. Five encores which indicates the level of appreciation.
That brings us up to date as John has supplied a run down on our frantic Saturday at the Oxford/Cambridge boat race on the Thames yesterday.
Until next time. Cheers Julia
Ying and Yang
 |
| The lengths to which one goes to save a Quid |
 |
| The ease with which said Quid is subsequently spent, courtesy of the La Poule au Pot restaurant off Slaone Sqaure |
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