The other evening, while sitting at my desk in the practice, I was on a Zoom call with a patient from the northwest of England.
I'm one of those who doesn't blur out his background and is happy for people to see what's there.
The patient was commenting on the lovely art behind me on the wall.
There is no lovely art behind me on the wall.
What's on the wall is a placemat from a little cafe in a French village at the bottom of a mountain, where we did a three-day bike ride back in 2019. Alex stole it away and framed it for all of us who were there, one each so precious.
There is a picture of a rose from my garden on a hugely significant day that I never wanted to forget when my life could have turned in a direction that I really didn't want; there is a photograph of my Children from something like 12 years ago, the letter from the bank to say that my personal guarantees had been removed after the sh*t show of 2020 etc.
In my office, I'm surrounded by precious things, everything apart from the telephone and the computer and the chair and the desk has a meaning.
That's the way I choose to live, both in my office and everywhere else.
I came back into the practice on Wednesday, and I saw someone, one of our team, who's had a really sh*t time of late, terrible things happening in their family life.
I just wanted to make sure they were okay. I just wanted them to be protected, which is another precious thing to keep.
That's what I want it to be to work here for all of us; not a chase for gold, but a chase for each other, for precious, for joy, for happiness and laughs and care and attention going forward.
Is that so bizarre?
Is that not what more of us should be looking towards?
Blog Post Number - 3831