I was pleased to read Janet Smith’s recent review of the state of SA surgery and how it continues to be world class. Though I wonder what it might be like in a few years’ time now that medical students are no longer selected on merit.
It cannot possibly be as bad as it was in my grandmother’s time.
I learnt long ago that one’s memory is a good liar. It was in 1994 when I was walking with Julie, my younger daughter, from Calais southwards towards Boulogne. We were nearing Cap Gris Nez which is where channel swimmers land or from where they depart.
I remember clearly as a 16-year-old arriving on foot at Cap Gris Nez and meeting a young American channel swimmer named Shirley-May who was my age. I shared chips with her in the cobbled market square which was glistening from a recent shower.
The other day I casually mentioned how, as children, we would see how many objects we could stuff into a matchbox. This led to a reader, Hillary in Kempton Park, saying she was sure that in a Girl Guide competition “years and years ago” she managed to stuff 100 “visible items into a matchbox – we couldn’t count molecules or atoms! – but my husband says it’s impossible. I recall including such things as a fly’s wing, a fly’s leg, a postage stamp, a piece of cotton and so on.