CategoriesHealthEssaysThought of The DayBusiness

Surely, we can do better than this, right?

Wired-up to a portable ECG monitor whilst I type, I feel like a hybrid human-cyborg. Doubtless this state-of-the art gizmo is cleverly reading all the electrical signals going to my heart, but the contraption’s poor wearability contrasts sharply against the brilliance of the tech. When my heart plays up – or, when I think that it does – I press the green button on a small, dangling pad. The pad is the end point for all the wires criss-crossing my torso. The pad will attach to a belt in such an ungainly manner, wires hanging everywhere. Even more cackhandedly, the pad might just squeeze into a pocket, with the wires protruding as if I’m wearing some form of suicide vest.

Design-wise, clearly what would be optimal is if the pad could be strapped to the body – somehow – because when, say, one needs the bathroom, down goes the trousers, which in turn yanks the pad downwards, straining the wires stuck to my chest. What a palaver! Should the wires become disconnected from the pad, the ECG test fails, to be repeated next week, probably. Showering or bathing is out of the question, which again is a preventable inconvenience. If the pad attached to my chest, then I could then wash waist-down, but no.

Not in the least do I feel put out by this minor imposition, which will only last 36 hours or so, but what has fired me up is that the solution to the dangling pad is so very simple. Over the years hundreds of thousands of people will have gone through this process, but nobody has yet thought to improve its user experience. Why is this? Is it because the user – i.e. me, the patient – doesn’t purchase these things, rather it is the medical practice which does?

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Famously, from its seemingly impregnable position as the leading player in video rental back in the 1990s, through foolishness, Blockbuster didn’t become Netflix. When Blockbuster’s CEO recommended to the board that they moved into streaming services, the Board poo-pooed the idea, stating that they made too much money from late returns – returns which wouldn’t happen with a streaming service. Goodbye Blockbuster Video!

Similarly, due to inertia throughout all car manufacturers, a start-up electric car company, founded by someone who knew nothing about cars or manufacturing products, became the most valuable company in the world: Tesla. The other car manufacturers continue to play catch-up. Thank goodness for Elon Musk.

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Speaking to a senior paramedic recently, I asked him – just how invaluable did he and his colleagues find the health apps stored on smart phones, available to emergency workers? He had no idea what I was on about, so I showed him what I meant. (If you don’t know, your smartphone should allow you to record some basic health information about yourself, ideal if you’re unconscious and someone needs to know why that might be.)

Of all the thousands of paramedics, most will have smartphones. Of these, many will be aware of the healthcare app functionality and, I imagine, a fair percentage of these will have updated their own information. Despite this, it has not become standard operating procedure for paramedics (and police, we think) to access such information. Why has this happened? It seems so obvious to an outsider. Does the culture of ambulance services stymie positive change?

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Since Facebook became omnipresent, most users realise that they are the product; that data is a new currency. The more in-depth a platform knows its users, the better it can allow third parties to sell to their users. Mass data is powerful.

Though the internet is readily available in the West, I am only aware of Stuff That Works as a means of collating vast amounts of data on health conditions and using AI to link various conditions, for the benefit of all humans. This is a new entity, set-up by a lady whose daughter had a chronic health condition. Spending hours scouring the internet for tips, with a background in tech – having helped found the awesome app, Waze – she created this tool which I predict will revolutionise medicine. Watch this space.

But why did the NHS, or a similar organisation somewhere in the world, not create this? Why has an outsider – a non-medic, like with what Elon Musk did with electric cars – create this game-changing health tech, rather than an insider?

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Three interconnecting theories spring to mind.

First, as Tony Blair talked about in his famous 1999 speech to the Labour Party Conference – The Forces of conservatism speech – he outlined that in all elements of society, including within the Labour Party itself, forces of conservativism hold back progress. Many people don’t like change, goes the argument, blocking improvements in all sorts of organisations – be they public sector, private or third sector. Conservatism, with a small “c”, delays human development.

Blair said:

“And it is us, the new radicals, the Labour Party modernised, that must undertake this historic mission. To liberate Britain from the old class divisions, old structures, old prejudices, old ways of working and of doing things, that will not do in this world of change.

To be the progressive force that defeats the forces of conservatism.

For the 21st century will not be about the battle between capitalism and socialism but between the forces of progress and the forces of conservatism.

They are what hold our nation back. Not just in the Conservative Party but within us, within our nation.” My underlining.

Blair was right.

Second, as David Epstein argues in Range, often the most successful people in a given field, hadn’t specialised in that field early on in their careers. Citing numerous, compelling examples, Epstein posits that the generalist is more likely to make a breakthrough in a field than someone who has been working in that field for far longer. He says that generalists deploy orthogonal thinking to solve problems, drawing on their wider knowledge of often unrelated areas.

Third, in the case of the ECG machine’s dangling pad, capitalism isn’t at work here in the traditional sense, as the user isn’t directly parting with their money. Had Amazon reviews been an option, the minor adjustments needed for the ECG would have been made long ago.

Well, that’s my take on matters.

CategoriesHealthHarrogateThought of The Day

A New Vocation

This chronic illness lark is like having a new job. So many appointments to attend. So many biological readings to document. So much research to undertake:   a never-ending, insurmountable amount of research to perform. So many Facebook groups to scour for information, lending support to others when I can.

So many medical experts to juggle. So many letters – yes, letters! – to write. So much evidence to archive. New tablets to collect, to ingest and then the impact thereof, if any, to document. All the while, my I-watch tells me how little movement I have done, how few steps. And food – did I eat the right stuff and at the right times? And is there an alternative medic – a witch doctor will do! – with the silver bullet, just waiting for me locate?

I could do with a break from this job. It’s knackering – and then there is the illness to contend with, and my obligations unperformed.

Of course, my chances of recovery are far higher than for any person in preceding centuries, but I do wonder whether all these burdensome, self-centred tasks are in some ways detrimental to a recovery. In years gone by, perhaps some people in my position would go to Harrogate to “take the water” just as Karl Marx did with his daughter, Eleanor, in November 1873, staying for three weeks. I’m already here!

CategoriesThought of The Day

Chickens and hedgehogs

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We’ve had chickens in back our garden for over five years. The original three chickens are – miraculously – still alive. In fact, they’re in fine form!

Now with more free space in my life to ponder the majesty of nature, for the first time in decades, I really immersed myself in our garden. I appreciate that we are fortunate to have a multi-faceted garden, teeming with nature. Without our garden, lockdown would have been far tougher.

Given that our broody chickens needed extricating from their hut – for they would sit there all day on non-existent eggs, if they were not moved – today was the first time that I felt the urge to pick them up. Simple.

Up close, chickens are majestic animals. If you have never studied a chicken, I suggest that you do so. Perhaps I wouldn’t have eaten so many over the years had their glory been so plane to me before. Handling a live chicken wasn’t on my bucket-list, but gently plonking our family friends down on the ground, free to roam, it did feel as I had secured a small victory.

Whilst relaxing in the garden this evening – at only 5:30pm – I was visited by the bravest of hedgehogs. Watch him sniff my feet in the video above! Hedgehogs don’t normally do this, particularly when there is a dog in the garden.

Although this is trite to write it, it feels as if my close encounter with our spiky friend wouldn’t have occurred had I not today made friends with the feathery occupants of our garden. Karma in the garden.

 

CategoriesLegalPoliticsEssaysThought of The Day

The Middle Class Advantage?

(I would prefer never to speak of any particular “class”, but as the term retains utility, I shall use it.)

On Friday evening, I had an emergency telephone consultation with a GP. Her advice was unequivocal: go to A & E. Not what I wanted to hear – of course – but I appreciated the clarity.

What I think I needed was for my blood pressure to be checked. Attending A & E alone was a non-starter, as I couldn’t stand up. We therefore asked our wonderful neighbours for an emergency babysitter. In that chat group was a GP.

Now I can assure my readers that I did not want our friend to check in on me, but check on me she did. (As I thought, my blood pressure was too low on standing, flooring me. A & E was spared my needless presence). For our friend, I feel immense gratitude, and I hope that she never needs to check on my again. But such fortuitousness (or not) gave me pause for reflection at the reason for my “luck”.

During my teens, my middle class, wonderful parents secured me two weeks of legal work experience. Unpaid, of course, as such work experience always is. These two weeks not only set me on my career trajectory, but then made it easier for me to find my first job in law. During my gruelling interviews to become a trainee solicitor, I remember citing my work experience as evidence that I understood the profession.

Today, routinely I help my friends and family with their legal problems. No question. Like me, most of my friends and family are “middle class”. Candidly, in the past, I was more likely to sanction a work experience placement if I knew the family.

But let me confess: over the years, I have joined in the pillorying of Old Etonians – particularly the Bullingdon Club boys – for using their upper class connections to further their interests. Even recently, Reckless Boris appointed yet another “Buller” to – believe it or not – take a seat on the Whitehall sleaze watchdog. And let’s not forget Matt Hancock, who appointed his “friend” from Oxford as a non-executive at his department. They soon got to know each other better.

Writing in The Times, Matthew Syed notes:

“The American data scientist Seth Stephens-Davidowitz estimates that the son of a president is 1.4 million times more likely to become president than an average American. He also shows that the sons of governors have a 6,000 times greater chance of reaching high office, and the sons of senators have an 8,500 times greater chance.”

Such statistics will be similar in the UK. Locally, my former colleague, Richard Burgon, MP for Leeds East, is the nephew of former local MP, Colin Burgon. More famously, in the next constituency – in Leeds Central – we find Hilary Benn MP, son of Tony Benn. Tony Blair’s father stood for the Conservatives, although usually most Labour MPs are drawn from unions – another club of sorts.

Witnessing the building work carried out on our house, it is clear that tradespeople, on the whole, have their own code of honour, able to call on each other whenever they need to. I envy it. Just as when I give free legal advice to friends or family, or when Reckless Boris appoints another mate, tradespeople often go to who they know; whom they trust; who is any good.

In the same Times piece, Syed also notes that the world’s greatest sport – football – is immune from nepotism. Billions play it, because all you need is a football and two jumpers for goalposts. Very few barriers to entry. In football, family ties mean almost nothing: you need ability to succeed. Connections won’t get you far. Unquestionably, the quality of football improves each season. No Premier League Winner in the 1990s would make a Premier League-winning team in the 2020s.

Whilst I am sure that we would all like to live in a more meritocratic world – a world which is mercifully becoming more meritocratic – it would pay us all dividends to consider how we use our own networks to get on, and to help “our own” to get on. The Etonians of this world are just doing what the rest of us do. The only difference being is that they usually control the levers of power. Our GP friend checked up on me – to my advantage – because we live in the same leafy suburbs. I live in a leafy suburb, thanks in large part to the advantages bestowed upon me from childhood. I am not saying that there is anything wrong with such opportunities being passed down the generations– that I should have rejected our friend’s generosity, due to an acknowledgement of historic injustices – but it is right that I realise that most people cannot call upon a friendly GP on a Friday evening.

Turning to our “clan” is what we have always done as a species. In football, we can see a brighter future, where all our talents are deployed to the benefit of the collective; a nirvana to aspire to. In the meantime, next time I contemplate decrying Reckless Boris, I shall first consider my own hypocrisies.

CategoriesPoliticsThought of The Day

In Cummings We Believe

This evening, Cummings enjoyed a one-hour prime-time slot, interviewed by his chum, Laura Kuenessberg.

In this blog, I’ll set out Cummings’ broad thesis.

  1. The party system is flawed.

As Cummings put it, any political system which provides Johnson and Corbyn as the only realistic options is – without doubt – broken. Hobson’s Choice, he says. Cummings highlights that, for MPs to climb the ladder, then they must play the party political game. This game does not promote the best people that the country has to offer.

  1. Whitehall is broken.

One plank of Cummings’ three-pronged deal with Reckless Boris – or “The Trolley” as he prefers to call him (noting that, like me, and unlike Starmer, Cummings wants a name to stick in the mind of the people) – was that he would only enter government if he could smash and then rebuild the civil service. His other demands were: that he could “get Brexit done”; and that he could heavily promote science.

  1. People are generally either competent or incompetent

Time and again, either in interviews or in his meandering tweets (rarely seized upon by the media, so frenzied they read), Cummings takes the view that either you’ve got it, or you haven’t. Accepting that it’s an unfashionable view, Cummings’ elitist position will win him few friends. For it is he and his coterie of “a few dozen Vote Leave key personnel”, he says, who make these decisions of far-reaching consequence for the rest of us. This Illuminati of British politics, he reckons, determine a key person’s ability to govern, casting aside “losers” and promoting their own.

  1. Johnson is clueless and dangerous

Devoid of any plan to govern, and “ludicrous”, said Boris of himself, that he was PM, Cummings admitted that his intention was to steer The Trolley. Post-2019 General Election, however, Cummings says that Carrie – Reckless Boris’ umpteenth partner – commenced a purge to remove all of the Vote Leave executives, supplanting them with her friends.

  1. To make an omelette, eggs need breaking

Explaining the nadir to which our politics sunk, with the unlawful prorogation of Parliament, the misleading of the Queen and the firing of multiple high-ranking Tory MPs, Cummings defended his tactics. His view was that he was without options: that the establishment had lined up to thwart Brexit and, in a political war, no prisoners could be taken.

Let’s quickly examine his positions.

Incontrovertibly, on counts 1, 2 and-4, Cummings is right. And he may well be correct on point 5, too. With point 3, surely people are on a sliding scale of competency.

The party system rejects the independent-minded. The brightest and the best don’t apply. Wannabe MPs have to fight unwinnable seats to prove their mettle, often taking decades to secure election, finding themselves in a seat which they don’t know. Once an MP, though the salary is double the national average, for many MPs it’s a pay cut – a pay cut coupled with a schizophrenic existence: Parliament and the constituency. Few sane people would wish for such an existence, all the while pilloried on social media, or under constant scrutiny, or threat of real danger, as what happened to Jo Cox MP.

Unlike in Taiwan, Australia, New Zealand and other countries, the British response to Covid was lamentable, almost genocidal in its effects. At the feet of Reckless Boris, I lay a good chunk of the blame. Time and again his instincts and slow decision-making costs thousands of lives. The last 11 years of Tory mismanagement of healthcare must shoulder a sizeable amount of blame, too, with the rest lying squarely at the door of the senior civil servants. As Cummings points out, when Covid came, the plans were deficient. The wrong stats were used to determine policy. Senior mandarins have had centuries to improve this process, failing us all at the most urgent of times. The deliberately delayed inquest into this carnage will not be kind to the zenith of our civil service.

Reckless Boris’ every key move during Covid has been wrong, or wrong as well as being too late. What Reckless Boris somehow has evaded blame for – though he should face trial for – was ramming home Brexit in the midst of this pandemic. Not even Farage could have blamed him had he pushed it back one year. Worse still, he threatened a No-Deal Brexit at this time, with the concomitant upsetting of our EU friends. When we needed cooperation, Boris sowed division. This is reckless in the extreme, utterly unconscionable, though brilliant. Such malevolent shenanigans unidentifiable through the Covid fog.

To make the omelette – to “get Brexit done” – essentially Cummings took the view that this was war; that the moral political equivalent of carpet bombing was permissible in the circumstances. On this, I shall ponder his view, which has the hallmarks of Machiavelli’s recommendations to statesmen in The Prince, together with Sun Tzu’s Art of War. Whilst considering the ethics of Cummings’ approach, I shall also contemplate the possible return of one, Tony Blair.

CategoriesHealthThought of The Day

Get Well Soon?

Chronic conditions are the hardest to treat – as the prophetical Seth Godin just blogged here – simply because we don’t pay them sufficient energy. This is not just true of medicine but for all realms. Covid’s acuteness trumps the existential chronic-ness of climate change. Chances are, we will die from a chronic condition, rather than an acute one.

 

Suffering from a chronic health condition requires the patient to become their own advocate; their own post-doctoral research fellow, too. Few people have the skills, time and money to do that effectively. Oh, and luck – you need vast amounts of that, too, should you want to make any progress. And the bloody mindedness to challenge and push the medics.

 

If we were to start from scratch and ask ourselves – how should we provide healthcare in 2021 and, of course, how should we provide pre-healthcare, so that fewer require acute interventions? – then we would not design what we have. “Time to return to the drawing board” would be apt, had the drawing board ever been used in this case. Time to buy one.

 

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I have the YouTube algorithm to thank for recently introducing me to British philosopher, Alan Watts. Long since dead, Watts studied the Eastern traditions, leaving numerous voice recordings of his musings. This one moved me. In it, he tells the story of a Chinese farmer.

 

Elegantly, Watts says:

 

“Once upon a time there was a Chinese farmer whose horse ran away. That evening, all of his neighbours came around to commiserate. They said, “We are so sorry to hear your horse has run away. This is most unfortunate.” The farmer said, “Maybe.” The next day the horse came back bringing seven wild horses with it, and in the evening everybody came back and said, “Oh, isn’t that lucky. What a great turn of events. You now have eight horses!” The farmer again said, “Maybe.

 

The following day his son tried to break one of the horses, and while riding it, he was thrown and broke his leg. The neighbours then said, “Oh dear, that’s too bad,” and the farmer responded, “Maybe.” The next day the conscription officers came around to conscript people into the army, and they rejected his son because he had a broken leg. Again, all the neighbours came around and said, “Isn’t that great!” Again, he said, “Maybe.”

 

Wise farmer. Wise Watts.

 

Being ill, perhaps permanently so, is – I tell myself – a “maybe”: neither good nor bad. Contained in that simple logic there is immense hope.

 

Watts’ story reminded me of the key learning point in the harrowing Man’s Search For Meaning by Victor Frankel. Holocaust survivor and psychotherapist, contemporary of Freud, Frankel explained that man needs purpose in order to survive any horror – well, to psychologically survive at any rate. After all he endured, Frankel would know. My hope is undiminished; more possibilities have opened up in my mind.

 

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This week, my awesome Quaker friends delivered a signed Get Well Soon card, of sorts. Well, our Quaker version of the Get Well Soon card. In it, the card reads: “Thinking of you all during this time of change.” Gorgeously put: thanks everyone! A “maybe”.

 

Purchased from the Woodlands Trust, (as of course a Quaker card would be), the front cover depicts an enchanting path, leading through some woodlands in the summer: a journey has commenced. It’s as if my friends knew what I was thinking this week.

 

CategoriesThought of The Day

Potholes

In the days following his murder – though the Jury deemed it to be Death by Dangerous Driving – often I would find myself, in the middle of the night, inconsolable and alone, on the bridge where he met his tragic end. An instantaneous end. Murder, in my book, for it was deliberate, unprovoked, drug-fuelled. Fleeing the scene, when he could have been alive, callous in extremis.

On the tarmac, forensic officers painted white circles to highlight where the various parts of his body were found; mostly the smashed teeth, I think. Even now, twenty years on nearly to the day, each time I see a painted circle around a pothole in the road, I think of him. What would he have become? Would we still be friends? Frankly, I cannot imagine him as anything other than the student with whom I lived, frozen in time.

For many years after, I relished the pain, the anguish. Such intense, profound, all-consuming grief surely meant that we had been good mates, right?

These things shape you – don’t they just? – but, sadly, foolishly, maddeningly, it’s only in my latter years when I have come to realise that each person has battles – won and still ongoing – that we know nothing about. Don’t judge others! It is often said that if each person’s problems were clear to see, then we would choose our own troubles. That is certainly true for me.

CategoriesHealth

Diagnosis: Dysautonomia

(This is written primarily for my kids, and for me)

Dysautonomia is my diagnosis. I hadn’t heard of it, either. Essentially, it’s a syndrome – a collection of symptoms with a probable root cause – rather than a specific diagnosis. But this is what the specialist GP declared after yet another chunk of time off work. It’s a badge, a label, not one I want to wear and perhaps a blue badge will follow in due course. Only time will tell. Since that fateful appointment, I think about this word – all, the, time.

After years of crumby health, leading to acute prostatitis/sepsis in March 2018 with an admission to hospital and a drip to smash the infection, my health has never fully returned. Since that hospital stay, always after doing too much, I predictably crash, leading to a few weeks away from home-life and work-life. That infection destroyed my thyroid – for life! – and still my irksome prostate issues continue.

This time, my fall-off-a-cliff crash, following a hectic time in late April 2021, is different. The crash deeper; the recovery stuck.

Ten days ago, my GP, who specialises in chronic health concerns, definitively gave me this diagnosis. At first, I was grateful that I didn’t have ME/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Expertly, the GP gave me a number of websites and videos to watch about this syndrome, requesting that we meet again soon. Digesting the recommended materials, the penny dropped: this was a big deal.

The autonomic nervous system (ANS), which in my case is damaged, talks to all organs. This system controls the fight or flight response. Dysfunctional ANS is either primary or secondary. Primary is more impactful, permanent feature than the secondary type, which is triggered by something else. Fingers crossed that this autoimmune condition – where your faulty immune system attacks the body – is of the secondary version (as I think it is). Cure the cause of the autoimmune response and your symptoms are likely to improve, though never go away.

I shall spare my readers the intimate details of my symptoms, suffice to say that my heart, breathing, blood pressure and temperature regulation, are skew-whiff. Sudden, loud noises feel like a life-or-death attack: I flinch. Standing up causes my legs to fill up with blood, requiring a lie-down to achieve equilibrium. Sleep is disrupted and frequently narcolepsy-like. My mornings are worse, improving as the day progresses. At times, the tiredness is all-consuming and sleep non-restorative. At other times, I can walk quite far and perform some work. Other than the occasional unpredictable shooting pain, pain – mercifully – does not feature. Now that’s something to be grateful for!

As a result, I have quit wheat/gluten (following a blood test sent to the US), sport, alcohol, caffeine and most morning work. Daily, I must consume vast quantities of liquid in order to increase the blood supply. Fortunately, I’m instructed to add salt to all my meals, to retain liquid and therefore increase blood volume. Perhaps the wheat/gluten intolerance caused all my problems: I hope so.

What’s the prognosis? I don’t know. What I can say is: I’m not angered by this impediment. Several years of daily blasts of Stoic philosophy have prepared me for this. I am, though, profoundly sad for my family and my awesome work colleagues, as they all bear a greater burden. But my children will learn to appreciate their health and empathise with those who aren’t well: such a great lesson. My colleagues will thrive, stepping up, challenging themselves and continuing our mission.

“The obstacle is the way,” as Marcus Aurelius would say, whose advice I recommend to injured people in my Truth Legal Blog. I shall master this obstacle.

CategoriesPolitics

Goodbye to the Lib Dems

This week, I resigned from the Liberal Democrats as my membership expired. It’s hard to dislike a Lib Dem: they are good people. Usually ideology-free, the Lib Dems wants the best for their local. Localism is what defines them, which often leads to different political positions dependent upon the ward or constituency. This, in turn, irks the other parties, who fairly accuse the Libs of flip-flopping.

My criticism/observation of Libs is that their North Star – their guiding principle – is to disagree with the Conservative Party. Essentially, their identity is not to be the Tories. That was my view before I became a member and remains my view. In recent polling, they are marooned on 5%.

Sadly, most of the Lib Dems I know frown upon any prospect of an electoral pact with other parties, but this is their only route to electoral success, barring a Covid and/or Brexit seismic political event. Disappointingly, tribalism is alive and well in the Libs. Tribalism is of course a base, pathetic instinct from another era.

Nearly everyone that I have met in politics wants the best for their country, yet each side denigrates the motivations of the other. Party politics unnecessarily pits good people against each other. With the antiquated whipping system, good politicians vote for bad laws – like against Marcus Rashford’s free school meals plea – in order to survive, thrive and to climb the ladder.

The representative system is flawed. Constitutional reform is the order of the day, but how to achieve it when the incumbent system benefits those in power? E-democracy – like Polis from Taiwan – could shake things up.

CategoriesHarrogate

Return to the Office

Quite rightly, Covid has given us the chance to reconsider our lives. Nobody, it seems, wants to return to commuting. Environmentally, this is indisputably a good thing.

Home working – which my firm has been doing for years – has countless benefits. The negatives, however, have not enjoyed enough oxygen yet. A balance – a harmony – is usually optimal. For knowledge workers like me, it is our solemn duty to train the next generation. It’s a mistake to think that such training can happen remotely. It can’t.

I posted about to this issue on Linkedin. In response, one professional put it elegantly: “It’s difficult to replicate the on-the-job learning, snatched questions, observations and ‘ear-wigging’ of conversations etc. which all contribute to a lawyer’s development.” Indeed.

Although I have been back in the office for months, I appeared in this week’s Harrogate Advertiser, given that this is the week that Reckless Boris has pushed the return to the office. Here is my quote to the paper, though only a few words were used:

“The duty of any professional person is to train the next generation. Such training cannot all take place by Zoom, email or telephone. This training – often by osmosis – must take place in person. Too many employers are making the mistake – which isn’t easily fixed – of thinking that their junior staff can learn their profession adequately from their spare rooms (if they have them).

Pre-Covid, for most knowledge workers – particularly lawyers, for whom I can speak about – it was farcical that so many were forbidden to work from home. During and post-Covid, many businesses have gone too far. Harrogate businesses must find a middle-ground.

If all professionals are now home-workers, then the main factor which will determine for whom you work is pay. Many jobs will therefore be outsourced to cheaper countries. Though home-working, which crushes the curse of presenteeism, is perhaps more meritocratic, new people to an organisation will struggle to bed-in. Any existing cliques will continue. Through home-working, the culture of an organisation will slowly perish.

The pandemic reminds us all – should we need reminding – that we are all, from a health perspective, inextricably linked. What’s more, the pandemic has revealed that, economically, we are also inextricably connected: if some businesses collapse, then so will others. Harrogate is at precipice: we must act in unison to save it. Adhering to guidance, the businesses of Harrogate must return to the office, for our town needs our presence and our cash.”

Here is the story in the paper:

Harrogate Advertiser September 3 2020 A

Harrogate Advertiser September 3 2020 B