Editor's Choice
I get great satisfaction from my job. I do it well.
No one is genuinely ready for me, whether they’re in Gaza, Ukraine, in a hospice or a car crash. And they’re all expecting a man. Heaven knows why; men can’t be trusted with important things.
Recently, I picked up a small child in the London area. Somehow, she’d wandered onto the M25, with predictable results. I told her I’d come to collect her.
Understandably, she wanted to know where we were going.
I gave her the same answer as I give all the others: I was taking her home.
No one is genuinely ready for me, whether they’re in Gaza, Ukraine, in a hospice or a car crash. And they’re all expecting a man. Heaven knows why; men can’t be trusted with important things.
Recently, I picked up a small child in the London area. Somehow, she’d wandered onto the M25, with predictable results. I told her I’d come to collect her.
Understandably, she wanted to know where we were going.
I gave her the same answer as I give all the others: I was taking her home.
