This morning, preparing food for our expected guests, I clumsily sliced through my thumb.  I ran into the house, calling for Jeremy at the top of my voice, and we dressed it, compressed it and had a cup of tea.  Then it was on with the cooking even though I knew that the cut was deep and possibly in need of a stitch or two.  Early evening I decided to take off the damp bandage and when I did so the thumb began to bleed again and Jeremy bundled me and into the car for a trip to Bedford A and E where I told him we would spend the evening.  He told me that Sunday night was not a busy time and we would be out of there in no time at all.  I am pleased to say that Jeremy was, as usual, correct and the marvellous receptionist told me that I would wait for 2 or 3 hours but within half an hour my name was called and a doctor pulled a sticky dressing from my wound and I bled on his nice, clean floor.  He sent me to wait for a steri strip to be applied by a steri strip technician which was carried out in under 15 minutes and then we were on our way home.  Hardly a blueprint for an episode of “Casualty” but a testament to the amazing treatment that is available to all and sundry from the wonderful NHS.  A far cry from the heartbreaking stories that our daughter told us when she landed back on terra firma tonight – fresh from a trip to Haiti where people sold their pitiful worldly goods to try and get their children and relatives to hospital when the cholera outbreak began in 2010.  Most of these children died anyway and those that survived are no longer able to attend school as the families lost what little they had to pay for a journey to receive treatment. Yet I, and my self inflicted cut, could receive top class treatment immediately in a clean and safe environment, free at the point of contact.  What an imperfect and unfair world we inhabit.