So, today I was on a Cabinet Office call about care homes.

This was me and a few others sharing our experiences of the pandemic and how it has affected those living in care homes as well as the staff providing the care and the relatives who for the most have been locked out.

The two guys were from the military; they have been tasked with meeting lots of different people and compiling a report which I imagine will then be read by Cabinet Ministers.

That, I presume, is how things work.

I’d have thought it better if the people who want to know what is what – the politicians came and asked me and my colleagues directly, after all, we are mostly available and if say, our local MP or the Health Secretary wanted a little of our time we would likely oblige.

Anyway, that is how it is.

People who don’t know things, asking people who know things to tell other people who don’t know things, things.

You can see where the whispers might fragment.

The two guys – one was in the army, the other from the RAF.

I don’t or can’t tell them apart – they are all geezers who like dressing up in uniforms and singing about the queen. Hey ho. That’s the world we live in.

I’m not sure what I was expecting when I agreed to participate.

I remember a few years ago in Doncaster, Ed Miliband when he was leader of the Opposition came to visit the rehabilitation hospital we had just opened. It was funny; I wasn’t invited to speak with him despite at the time being one of the local leaders (I had already started my long, slow fall out of favour with those in authority) – I was one of those presented in a line for him to shake hands and mutter niceties.

Travelling back further in time, it must have been around 2001, I was invited to go to Number 10.

Blair was the P.M. and this was before 9/11, the Gulf War and all the subsequent shenanigans.

Now, those who know me well, know that I have never been much for hierarchy or position and it was an odd experience to receive the invite; I went along anyway, as they say, for the craic.

Suffice it to say I drank too much wine and the security guys didn’t appreciate my wandering into the back offices. Tony stood on a little box and we all clapped. The highlight had been the hours preceding spent on Charing Cross Road book-buying.

On the whole I am not a fan of politicians or civil servants who run around mechanising government.

Person-centred politician.

Funny, not something I have ever heard.

Maybe they should consider adopting this philosophy as a way to understand and do, a way to bring about change or improvement; doing with rather than to, giving rather than taking, loving rather than hating.

Oh, for a moment, I forgot it was the UK in 2020.