Mood:
chattyStanley has a prison - a room at the top and a few in the basement of the local police station. Today we went to perform a health check on a man who had done some not very nice things and had accordingly been sentenced to 28 days. Had he been sentenced to 31, he would've been home in 24, with a week off for good behaviour. It was quite a contrast to the UK, where prisons are overflowing.
We left casualty and drove in the government jeep used by the doc on call to turn the corner, blink, and arrive at the station. Chatted with the officers, tried on some hats, looked in two ears, listened to a heart beat, checked the lung bases, squished a belly, chatted with the officers, got into the jeep, blinked, turned the corner, and were back to work in the ER.
Little cottages, multicoloured rooftops, and my Chief Medical Officer waving to everyone as we drive past. I felt a little like postman pat's cat.
