It was approximately 1am on December 10, 2019, I stood in an operating theatre of an NHS hospital with my wife attached to monitors and medical teams working flat out in an attempt to safely deliver our new born son.
We are in the sweet spot. The stress of the election is over, the worry of food shortages can't kick in till next year even if they are real, so now we have Christmas. It's time to eat, drink and be merry.
As Autumn turns the trees to an oxidised red and the leaves drop to the ground like the end of Adam and Eve's date night, we all know what happens next. Our hopes of a Sunday morning lie-in are ruined by some fussy neighbour and their leaf blower.
A good friend of mine died last week after a very short illness. She was much loved and leaves a gap that will be huge for her family, her friends and her community. In such a short time everything changed.
After prime minister Boris Johnson visited Whipps Cross University Hospital, I have written to him, to again raise the case for the urgent need to support the Strategic Case for funds for the re-development of Whipps Cross Hospital.
There were many occasions during our childhood when my brother and I would squabble or fight over some game or toy and maybe cry: "It's not fair" or "Mummy, make him give me that, it's mine". The response we got depended upon the parental mood at the time.