That settlement was set aside in the February of this year on the basis of material non-disclosure and conduct, and the house is being sold, and I will get most of it back.
That took eleven months and it is not finished.
The fourteen months, which people imagine as a holiday and which I am going to describe once.
I was not suspended. That is a word people use and it is wrong, and the distinction mattered enormously to me at the time and matters not at all now.
I was “restricted from clinical duties pending investigation”, which means you come in. You badge in at the same door at half seven. You walk past your own clinic and you go to an office on the fourth floor and you do audit work that a band five could do, and at one o’clock you go to the same canteen as everybody who knows.
Fourteen months of that.
Three people stopped speaking to me. I am not going to name them. Two of them were at my wedding.
Eleven people were extraordinary — the sister, Bernadine, who rang me every Sunday for a year; a registrar called Olu who sent me a photograph of every single thank-you card that came into the department with my name on it, for fourteen months, without comment.
