The new commandments
IT’S getting sombre. The PM’s trip to St Thomas’s winded us all. Our bluff gallows humour, the usual British response to crisis, evaporated. His resurrection (at Easter, with a timeliness that even Dominic ‘Second’ Cummings could not have engineered) he marked in a speech of Damascene conversion to the NHS, which I found overwhelmingly moving.
It’s getting closer. Over at the house, our young cleaner, Maria, has had it. Alan, who helps with the garden—he’s had it. Dalena, who lives in the caretaker’s
