‘I want to ask you a little about your blog…’

This blog has again loomed large. It did at LB’s inquest and again this week at the ongoing GMC tribunal. Dr Murphy’s respective barristers both presented it as a transgressive space/action that somehow underpinned or fed into what unfolded. It was a malign catalyst for something (I’m not sure what either barrister was trying to argue other than the blog damaged the relationship between some consultant psychiatrists and a patient’s mother).

How social media ‘feedback’ is ‘used’ by health and social care is the subject of considerable research, some of which is happening in our research group. A colleague has been interviewing people who document their health experiences online to explore why they do so.

When I started writing the blog back in May 2011 ‘online patient feedback’ was not a twinkle in my eye and possibly wasn’t even a thing. I wanted to capture the funny stuff that happened in an online diary. I didn’t expect it would be read beyond close family and friends (or even by them). In fact it became quite widely read and a few hundred people started to follow it. The fun focus sadly disappeared towards the end of 2012 and it became an account of trying and failing to get support for LB and subsequently the 107 days he spent in the unit.

This week the blog questions unfolded like this [RP is Dr Murphy’s barrister] :

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This was ground already thrashed out during LB’s inquest nearly two years ago now [VM is Dr Murphy talking about a community psychiatrist].

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A different view was presented by the Band 6 nurse during his evidence:

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I was told a few years ago that a STATT staff member was warned about LB’s imminent admittance four days before he was admitted. I thought this must somehow be wrong. I mean we didn’t know the unit existed until the day we took him there. It was almost in the realm of Mulder and Scully terrain to think that discussions were going on, without us, about a specialist unit we were to find out about from a mate on March 19th.

This week it became apparent that Dr Murphy and other consultant psychiatrists had discussed LB’s potential admittance to STATT (unrecorded discussion) in the weeks before it happened. I spoke with one of the consultants from back in the day earlier today and it turns out that my blog was known about before LB was admitted to STATT. My blog (and my aggression or forthright communication depending on where you sit) generated strong emotions, anxiety, irritation and distrust. There was, as JC said ‘an irrational fear of the blog’.

Social media activity like this was unprecedented and no one who was bothered about it knew how to deal with it. Appeals were made to senior Oxfordshire County Council (OCC) levels to somehow close it down. These were robustly rebutted by a redacted person who, like JC above, suggested that it created an opportunity for engagement.

I appreciate the frank discussion which happened with no notice today. I was also shocked that consultants could be so discommoded by the blogging of a parent, that none of them were able to read, discuss or engage with what was being written in a constructive way. I’d been carefully documenting the complete lack of health and social care support for an increasingly anxious and unwell young man for three or four months by then, or possibly longer.  This is remarkably similar to the Blog Briefing Sloven circulated the day after LB died in which concern focused solely on reputation and professional pride.

I wonder if my writing style somehow added to the fear and distrust. The irreverence and liberal swearing. If I had written a more conventional and ‘polite’ account would it have been better received? I suspect not given the consultant I spoke with denied actually reading it. This was irrational fear.

I’m baffled that not one of these consultants was able to speak to me about their concerns. (Interesting we could have an open discussion today… I assume the toxic mother label is finally shifting as Sloven failings are finally recognised.) I’m deeply horrified we were oblivious to this consternation about the blog when we admitted LB. As the GMC argued this morning, it was Dr Murphy’s responsibility to talk to me about LB’s treatment. It was also the duty of these consultants, surely, to share their concerns with me about my blog?

I suggested to the consultant that the extreme response at the time was generated by the lack of actual challenge to medics by patients or families who are too easily silenced in different ways. The blog created a space of challenge but instead of being used to improve practice, or even engage with and consider the limitations of practice, it was despised and I suspect had an impact on how LB was treated. The veneer of professionalism can be shown to be very thin when ‘transgressional’ activity takes place.

There is some irony that #JusticeforLB is now used in health and social care learning and teaching. The blog also created an unusual contemporaneous record of what happened. The power of the posts that reviled or worried staff before LB died formed part of the evidence at his inquest. The typically disempowered position family members occupy when their testimony is dismissed as ‘anecdote’ differed here. Lowly families aren’t allowed the defence of ‘I did it in my head’ like Dr Murphy has used this week at the tribunal but I had written it down.

There is much to think about, discuss and chew over here in some ways. In other ways there ain’t. Health and social care professionals should be engaging with patients and families in different ways, at different times and in different spaces. They should be encouraging comment and feedback. I hope our experience is already historical and within the ivory tower of unassailable medical practice medics are learning to be more humble and take public accounts of patient experiences as opportunities to better understand the consequences of their actions, or non-actions, and the interaction between the various individuals involved. These accounts should be treasured not vilified.

 

 

 

A pre-tribunal Sunday in August

 

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The day before Dr M’s GMC tribunal starts. Weeks of dread, horror and such deep sadness. A chunk of today listening to a Keane playlist. And re-reading the various tribunal documentation. (Regular readers will know that Keane were LB’s favourite band for about two years before he moved on to drum and base.) I thought about how six years or so ago now he would probably have been lazing out in the garden if it was sunny, listening to Walnut Tree and the like. Over and over and over again. And then again.

My mind wandered into an unusual space earlier; an imagining space. Imagining LB had received good care at the unit. Imagining that he had been treated with care, respect and professionalism…

Rich and I spent several hours in A&E two weeks ago after I had a couple of dodgy breathing episodes over a few days. The care, attention and kindness demonstrated by everyone we came across in the John Radcliffe Emergency Department was exemplary. Around 2pm on the Sunday, watching the men’s Wimbledon final in the waiting room and waiting for various test results,  I said to Rich

Not being funny but I feel an unusually peaceful sense of wellbeing right now…

It was beyond comforting to be looked after by dedicated professionals after four years of brutal treatment. Early evening the consultant said it was anxiety, my GP would be in touch to discuss and we could go home. I’d said hours earlier that I was under immense stress. Information that was parked by staff who spent the day carefully testing for heart related and other nasties regardless.

This was, arguably an anti ‘diagnostic overshadowing’ experience. I don’t like this term but it’s the idea that health/social care bods can’t see beyond the label of learning disability or autism to offer effective care. Rich last week said it’s just neglect really and my A&E experience supports that. Even with an obvious explanation, staff did a thorough investigation.

Some of the detail that may unfold over the next two weeks of the hearing will be bewildering or shocking to many people, health professionals and others. Or it should be. Perhaps some medics will switch off when they hear the learning disability label. Thinking explicitly or implicitly that LB’s death wasn’t ‘premature’. Certain people die early… weak stock and all that.

There is no reason under the stars, planets and to the moon and back that LB and I received such different NHS care. I was treated with respect, care and a deep level of professionalism in a space that people typically pass through in a few hours. I pitched up out of the blue. LB, with a ‘footprint’ (I dunno what else to call it) that should have screamed serious attention and care is needed, was treated with contempt on admittance to the unit, restrained, sectioned and then pretty much ignored for 107 days until he died.

I type these words with a jangling, raging, fucking maelstrom of incredulity…

George Julian will attend the two week Manchester based GMC hearing daily and live-tweet the proceedings. There has been a remarkable response to a funding call to cover her expenses to do this; recognition that making these processes transparent is a public service. It ain’t an easy gig to live tweet anything, let alone complex legal cases and the LB’s inquest twitter feed she produced remains a remarkable example of live and open justice.

For us, as a family, we could not be more appreciative that George is prepared to take on this task with a professionalism too often lacking. To know that we don’t need to ‘police’ this tribunal; to be confident that the process will unfold transparently with commentary from a diverse number of people. This is simply priceless.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The bleat action continuum

Over two years ago now I was writing about ground elder and the #LBBill. I’ve moved into the front garden recently, leaving the elder battle in kind of easy truce [I failed]. The front garden has tall ‘weeds’ with yellow tops which grow to middling head height every summer, leaving columns of snappable woody stems in the autumn.

Turns out these fuckers are worse than the ground elder. They have incredibly dense interconnected knotted lumps of a main root with shaggy swathes of stringy roots. Each one involves a hefty dig, more digging and almost full body wrestle to remove it from the ground. I can almost hear the earth breathing as they are lobbed into the brown bin.

Today we were due to hear the outcome of the Nursing and Midwifery Council (NMC) investigation into how they could possibly have shared personal details to the six nurses under investigation and their counsel.

Given the General Medical Council (GMC)* tribunal into Dr M’s fitness to practice starts on Monday in Manchester for two weeks and Rich and I are on extreme stress settings, I naively hoped that the NMC would be in touch early on in the day to limit the stress. We’ve had way too many 5-5.30pm Friday disclosures over the last four years.

The day dragged on. I punctuated work tasks with patches of root wrestling. Still nothing from the NMC. By 4pm I drifted onto twitter. It was impossible to concentrate. There was some discussion around what time we might expect to hear from the NMC and recognition that the Friday afternoon ‘disclosure dump’ is clearly modus operandi for public sector organisations with no heart or feeling. I resorted to tweeting the CEO about the cruelty of this delay.

The email pinged into my inbox. At the very outer edges of the allocated time.

Tip: Because you say an investigation is going to take x amount of days doesn’t mean the investigation has to take x amount of days. Focusing more attention on a complete balls-up to reduce the time the investigation takes and the accompanying stress for the family is the least you can do in a situation like this. Particularly if

  1. you had an additional 15 days between discovering the data breach and bothering to contact one of the four people affected.
  2. you have previously and publicly spent £250k redacting documents requested by another bereaved family in a breathtaking self protective act.

One of the numerous shite practices we’ve noticed over the past four years is the tendency for senior public sector staff to bleat ‘It was not our intention to do x, y or z’ despite doing it. Or ‘On reflection we should have done…’ when they didn’t.

What this really means is senior staff act with intent (and speed) when it involves their (organisational or own) reputation/skin and don’t when it doesn’t. The briefing on my blog circulated the day after LB died is an exemplar of this bleat action continuum.

The NMC letter outlined how sorting out the return of our personal data (first shared in November 2016) is shambolic. A mix of returned data, alleged destruction of data and outstanding information about copies made.

About as unreassuring as you could get.

And then, in a move not worthy of being written into a cheesy, made for tv movie, it turns out that after discovering the data breach in July 2017, they re- shared my personal details with three of the nurses. Yes, you read that correctly. Re-shared. Nine months after first carelessly tossing them around. But only [bleat] the same information (minus my bank details) to the same people…

There is nothing like heavy handed, dosh drenched redaction when it ain’t your reputation under threat. Nope. Nothing like it.

Fuckers.

*The GMC have been exemplary in the approach to this: clear, detailed information, communication and organisation.

“Breathe before clicking…”

Three possibly related developments in the last week or so. [One] The Sloven annual report published last week included a paragraph about the ex-CEO and her pay off:

‘Independent capability reviews’ had determined Percy was fit to lead. Blimey. That’s  interesting. What do these reviews say?

Well, a capability review was carried out by YSC for a cheeky £116k excluding VAT last year. A report that has never seen the public light of day despite FOI requests by ex-governor Peter Bell. It apparently gave the board a clean bill of health in the summer of 2016.

One year later, not one executive or non-executive director remains in post.

Now I ain’t no mover or groover in senior NHS circles [cue the eye leaking emoji] but I can’t help thinking that purging a Trust board of every executive and non-executive director is a pretty serious move.

Percy is apparently exonerated by this [secret] capability review while two prosecutions for failings under her watch are pending. Just extraordinary. I mean I can only imagine/hope one prosecution against a Trust is a pretty serious and rare gig. While two…?

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In the same week, I received an email from a journalist scamp with a warning to breathe before clicking. [Two] Percy is back and touting for business  with some toe curling claims. These include inspirational and visionary leadership, creating an open, accessible and energised culture, and successfully delivering a major acquisition of services.

[Three] As the last few Sloven staff transfer over to Oxford Health or limp back to Hampshire, the door is finally closed on the grim and grotesque acquisition process Percy led back in 2012. I think it’s fair and reasonable to say that using the word ‘successful’ in relation to this process and the devastation that followed, is one of those stretches that should never have been a fleeting thought in a careless moment, let alone typed into a Linkedin profile.

I want to flag up here that I have no personal vendetta against Percy. I have no interest in her as an individual outside of what she, her actions and the ‘official responses’ to her actions reveal about the murky of murkiest corners of the NHS.

There are, clearly, serious questions generated by these latest unfoldings which should be of concern to all of us.

Not least, why do the various NHS layers – Jeremy Hunt, the Department of Health, NHS England, NHS Improvement, the CCGs, the Sloven board – allow, enable or facilitate these narratives of delusion and erasure to stand unchallenged, and the continued channelling of scarce dosh into insalubrious pockets and pots?

UPDATE: The PriceWaterhouseCooper audit clearly summarises the failings the bulk of which occurred under Ms Percy’s leadership. Deary, deary me… Something is Stinky Pete around here.

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A Brum based step towards accountability

On a plane to Tenerife last November for a conference I sat next to a woman who had a hush hush job to do with environmental failings. As we chatted, our involvement with the Health and Safety Executive (HSE) cropped up. There were overlaps with whatever she did. She suggested very seriously that I should read the full Alton Towers report. I did when I got home. The key part is here in the HSE press release:

There was a meticulous unpacking of the evidence to show that the failings came from the top rather than the people working that day who were directly involved in the ride that crashed so horrifically.

Rich and I went to Birmingham today to meet the HSE and the barrister they appointed shortly after that trip. It turned out to be the same barrister who represented the HSE in the Alton Towers prosecution. Funny old world.

During the meeting we learned more about the legal process. Hopefully I’ve got this right but it sounds like there will be a hearing at the Magistrates Court in Oxford or Banbury on September 18. At this hearing, the HSE barrister will present a case summary which will distill the complexity of the evidence into a digestible document highlighting links to the wider documentation. I assume (but am a bit hazy on this) Sloven’s legal counsel produce a response to the prosecution’s case.

Then a computer randomly churns out a date for a ‘plea and trial preparation hearing’ which will be held 28-35 days later. This may be heard in a Magistrate Court, Crown Court or High Court.

If Sloven plead guilty on that day no date will be generated. Instead the judge will send the case for sentencing.

So many connections and oddities.

An extract from my book. [As an aside, I’m sure I’m taxing the patience of both the production and copy editor off the planet with my last minute revision attempts – I’m sorry. And I’ve stopped now (yesterday). Sorry.]:

Ten years later we may be back at the Oxford Magistrates Court. For real.

Who knows, it may even be the same magistrate. Unlikely I know, but I wonder if he’d remember the young boy who was bursting with excitement and enthusiasm that Saturday morning. Beyond thrilled with the tour of the court, the cells and the car park where the G4 vans park. A young boy who listened to and took the mocked up case so seriously, demonstrating an unwavering commitment to the process of the British justice system.

I bloody hope so.

A breach too far

I’ve spent the day since talking to the Nursing and Midwifery Council (NMC) at lunchtime shaking uncontrollably, swearing and raging, laying on the settee in silent tears and, for the last two hours, drinking beer and now wine. ‘Luckily’ we are on annual leave so I can do all these things.

I think it’s fair to say that since Connor died we have been treated in a remarkably consistent and appalling way. We’ve had no equivalent of a police liaison officer to help us pick our way through the wreckage of his death and our shattered lives. We’ve had no support, kindness or understanding from any of the organisations implicated in his death (the Trust, the county council, the clinical commissioning group, NHS England or NHS Improvement).

Instead we’ve been smeared, pissed and shat on in extraordinary ways.

In addition, we’ve been expected to attend numerous meetings with the ‘great’, good and mediocre to try to improve practice. All at our own expense, all in our own time and not one single meeting held in Oxford where we live. We have been chewed over, sucked dry and spat out.

I think we’ve behaved pretty well in the circumstances. I’ve only started using the word cunt regularly in the last few months or so. It trips off my tongue now. Rich has stormed out of the odd meeting or raged down the phone to the odd Chief Inspector or two, but in the circumstances small fry really.

We’re a family, like so many others, who have experienced the worst possible happening; the preventable and brutal death of a beyond beloved son, brother, grandson, nephew, cousin and friend within the hallowed walls of the NHS. A young man with his whole life ahead of him, discounted as human because he was labelled as learning disabled.

We’ve sucked up delay after delay, obstruction, deceit, denial and mother-blame on a scale that is more than enough to generate long term mental ill health. We’ve battled on with remarkable support from many people. Dealing with the death of a child is horrific. Dealing with the accompanying shite and recriminations that come with the bullying, defensive and self obsessed practices of public sector organisations (and individuals therein) which have failed, is simply brutal.

Today I was told, after an opening filler of no substance whatsoever, that the NMC had ‘accidentally’ shared our personal details with the six nurses under investigation back in November 2016.

There was no whiff of an apology until I asked for it.

A couple of hours later, when I was able to speak, I found out that this data breach involves:

Our home address, my mobile number, email and bank details, my mum’s name and phone number, Connor’s date of birth, NHS number and his dad’s name and phone number.

 

The redaction policy of redacting personal information had been ignored when it came to our personal information. There were other redactions. From this, we can only infer that we, like Connor, were discounted as human. How else can you redact some personal information and not others?

This apparently came to light on June 26 2017. Over two weeks ago. Five out of the six nursing staff (or their counsel) were contacted by email on Monday with a request to destroy or return the disc containing this information. Four out of the five have apparently acknowledged receipt of the email with no accompanying action. The sixth staff member who only has a postal address hasn’t been contacted yet. The NMC haven’t bothered sending a letter.

Our personal information is still out there live and kicking.

The senior member of the fitness to practice team I spoke to after the first call spouted root cause analysis and learning shite after a delay of an hour between calls while she bothered to get the relevant information to hand to answer my questions.

I can’t articulate this violation other than in tears. A flood. The level of contempt and disrespect is generating weeping in a way I thought we’d kind of crawled beyond. A return to the Sooty tears. Almost worse in some ways because it is so fucking wanton.

The basics here – like don’t leave a patient with epilepsy to bath alone in a locked room and redact the personal details of the dead patient and their family when sharing information –  don’t need investigation or root cause analysis.

And the tears kick in again.

 

 

A phone call from the NMC

“Hello Dr Ryan,

I just wanted to update you with where we are at with the tribunals. Since we last spoke we’ve held case conferences with the HSE and GMC and established a good working relationship.

One other thing that’s come to light is that back in November 2016 we sent out your personal details to all six registrants [nurses] and their counsel. We’ve asked them to send the hard disks with the details on it and to destroy any copies they may have made.”

No words.

Update:


Tribunal torture

This post builds on Five tribunals and a dress code. Sadly.  A few weeks ago I had a three hour (yes, three hour) interview with General Medical Council lawyers. This grilling (they warned me in advance it would be) involved a barrage of questions in tortuous, micro detail.

It was grim. Documentation (and this blog) had been mined for any inconsistencies.

As I’ve banged on before, staff have legal representation at these tribunals and these barristers can ask anything they want of witnesses. Witnesses (including bereaved families) are not allowed representation. During the interrogation, in a hotel meeting room in North Oxford, I scrawled this:

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I went home afterwards, instead of to the work meeting I was supposed to attend.

This morning the Nursing and Midwifery Council (NMC) called to update me on the six nursing tribunals due to be held this summer/autumn. A preliminary meeting was held last week apparently and the independent chair agreed to:

  1. Lump the tribunals together to make one long one hearing.
  2. Postpone this until May 2018.

Apparently the NMC opposed this delay but staff representatives disagreed with a possible January 2018 date.

So, another year and another tribunal to dread. The brutality of forcing us to revisit what happened for at least another 12 months.

We had no one at the meeting to draw to the chair’s attention the utter inhumanity intricately woven into this process.

We simply don’t count.

 

A missing ‘apology’ in five parts

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Part I.

Michael Buchanan (who I suspect bereaved families across the country are developing serious love for) continues to fight the good fight of uncovering and shedding light on brutal NHS practices. He did a piece about the decision of the Health and Safety Executive (HSE) to prosecute Sloven for BBC News on Tuesday.

At one point, Huw Edwards, introducing the story, said:

“The Trust earlier apologised to the family…”

I nearly dropped my glass of cheeky and chilled vino.

“Eh? Did you hear from Sloven today, Rich?”
“No.”
“Neither did I. What apology?

The next morning, a local journalist rang and mentioned the apology.

We ain’t received an apology, mate.

I looked on the Sloven website. Maybe they’d issued a statement. [Putting an apology in a statement is not the way to apologise to a family, mind. I was curious about where this ‘apology’ was].

Nothing.

I continued to hear about ‘the apology’ as the day wore on. With no sign of it. Then bingo. This, on twitter:

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Ah. The apology was part of a statement the Trust were sending to journalists. A fake apology extraordinaire.

Part II.

In the same way that the Trust response to LB’s death was to write and circulate a briefing document about my blog to protect their reputation, their response (and this needs to be read within the context that three board chairs, a CEO and a complete set of non-executive directors have now been replaced)  to the HSE decision was to tell the British public, via the press, that they have, once again, offered their ‘unreserved apologies’ to us.

Now Julie Dawes, and your merry band of (shit and/or remaining) executives, here’s the rub:  this is no apology. It is nothing resembling an apology. It is so much worse.

What you have done is:

  • compound the barbaric treatment you have relentlessly dished out to us (and many other families).
  • Make visible the insincere, formulaic and performative ingredients of an NHS ‘apology’.
  • demonstrate you have learned nothing despite saying you have.
  • treat us with further contempt and disrespect I didn’t think possible.
  • show us you remain incapable, either wilfully or otherwise, of understanding basic humanity and decency.

Part III.

The statement is pure spin. A closer look at the wording:

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The HSE has “informed the Trust of its intention to prosecute in relation…” [Prosecute who?] “Connor’s death whilst in our care…” [It could have happened to anyone, we just happened to be holding the parcel when the music stopped.] “Could have been prevented…” [Introducing uncertainty into the findings of the independent investigation and the inquest.] “We would like to…” [But we ain’t going to.] “Once again…” [We have apologised to this vexatious mother relentlessly.] “Offer our unreserved apologies…” [A prize for us to take with grateful hands.]  “To his family.” [Family for PR purposes, ‘the Mother’ for every strategic opportunity to stick the boot in.] “Continues to do everything it can…” [Apart from actually say sorry].

Part IV.

You didn’t get in touch with us to say sorry. You got in touch with the press.

Minutes after finding the ‘apology’ on twitter, I received an email from your administrator. On behalf of you and the Board Chair, Alan Yates, about meeting up with the group of families you have treated like utter crap.

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You can email me about a meeting (to benefit you) but you can’t say sorry.

You didn’t get in touch with us to say sorry. You got in touch with the press.

I find this unforgivable.

Part V.

Rich and I have felt pretty low since the HSE news. People have been saying it’s remarkable that the campaign has achieved so much. It is. Bryan, from My Life My Choice, earlier reminded me of the time I sat in his office a year or so ago, dejectedly saying we didn’t have a craphole chance of achieving our aims… particularly around making sure Sloven didn’t profit from the sale of the Slade House site and a prosecution against the Trust.

The trouble is, of course, LB remains dead; our beautiful son, brother, grandson, nephew, cousin and friend, is forever absent and, within a shifting family landscape, newer family members will never meet their quirky uncle LB, brother in law, second cousin or potential godfather. We know this. Any bereaved family knows this.

What your latest ‘unreserved’ non-apology beyond shiteness this week has shown, is that you have zip all understanding of this, and that you couldn’t give a flying fuck. You have been beaten into a corner by a remarkable, and unprecedented, collective brilliance, and you’ve learned nothing.

Still.

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The pigeon in the chimney

Nearly two weeks ago now, we had a pigeon in our chimney, in the bedroom. It took ages to come down, bringing years worth of chimney shite with it. The fireplace has one of LB’s bus pictures in front of it and once it landed, the pigeon just calmly poked it’s head round the side of it. Rich was ready with a cloth to catch it and release it out of the window. It did a massive loop around the houses then flew away.

Ten minutes later, the Health and Safety Executive rang. They said they will be prosecuting Sloven under Section 3 of the Health and Safety Act. Tears. The following day, Fran rang. She had been at a meeting with Oxford Health and commissioners where it was confirmed that, after quite a battle, the Slade House site would remain with Oxford Health. She said there were tears. More tears.

Jim Mackey, NHS Improvement, told Andrew Smith, MP:

“Southern Health will not receive a cash consideration and will record a non-operating ‘loss’ item in its accounts.”

I think that’s pretty much it now. Other than a shindig at the Oxford Magistrates court when the prosecution is held.

Thank you. I think we all did a bloody good job, as Connor would totally expect.