Trust no one.

Under pressure (the use it or lose it sort) from Uncle Beattie to take annual leave, I planned four weeks. I even had a locum lined up.

I should have known better. At the last minute, Uncle Beattie decided not to pay for my locum. I only discovered this change in plan during a chance conversation with a receptionist.

The locum, being a sensible fellow, made a hasty exit for greener pastures. Uncle Beattie's deputy then suggested it might be difficult to spare me for more than two weeks without a locum. OK, so two weeks it was and the holiday plans fell through.

I keep asking myself why I was surprised.