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No self-respecting blog about nursing and
culture (and possibly they number more than one) could ignore what happened on
Friday night. The Olympics opening ceremony boggled eye and brain. It
was an ambitious attempt to re-imagine what British things were worth
celebrating without recourse to forelock-tugging, corporate branding or
celebrity glitter. Some crass mouthbores slated it as socialist. As if there
was some sinister bias revealed in the motto that ringed the stadium before the
appearance of Tim Berners-Lee - THIS IS FOR EVERYBODY.
At the centre of the pageant was the
unexpected partnering of children’s literature and the NHS as represented by
800 puff-sleeved dancing nurses and dozens of ecstatically bed-bouncing
children. The dark spirits of Lord Voldemort, the Childcatcher and other
fictional villains were driven back by co-operative goodness and some airborne
Mary Poppinses. And they weren’t hired actors pretending to be nurses; they
were actual nurses and other healthcare workers who had volunteered their own
time to rehearse weekend after rainy weekend. To learn exits and entrances and
jitterbug kicks for the joy or satisfaction of just taking part. Watching it
was to zigzag between thinking, this is
madness and this is brilliant.
The reasoning behind the juxtaposition was
that J.M Barrie, author of Peter Pan,
gave all the rights for the work to Great Ormond Street Children’s Hospital,
and it was fitting too that his words were read out by JK Rowling who has passed a great deal of her wealth on to projects such as a new research clinic for
neurodegenerative diseases at Edinburgh’s Royal Infirmary. Literature is good for your health.
Removing healthcare from the day-to-day and
setting it in this fairytale wonderland, addressed to the whole
world, allowed us to see it for a moment in a new light. I mostly consider
myself immune to the emotion of national spectacles, if not downright repulsed.
The Jubilee, for example, had me running for the literal hills. Yet I found myself vulnerable to the
sheer optimism and egalitarianism expressed by ceremony writer Frank Cottrell Boyce, one of the creative team behind the ceremony.
But maybe I’m coming down with a case of age-related tenderness. I’d be interested to hear what others thought about those dancing nurses. Chuffed or queasy?
nurse performers return home post-ceremony |
I loved the NHS scene. It was so full of joy and care. I am astonished that medical staff who frequently work long hours in difficult situations felt able to give up their leisure time to this fabulous pageant. NHS the musical is overdue.
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