The Courier & Advertiser (Perth and Perthshire Edition)

I dealt with my cancer alone while the prime minister had booze-up – you bet I’m raging

- Lindsay Bruce Lindsay Bruce is an obituaries writer for The Courier and @Llbruce on Twitter.

Tears. Real tears. And then absolute bloody-minded rage.

I’d like to tell you it was a reaction to an epic documentar­y about a brutal war but in reality I’m sobbing at my worktop because I just watched Prime Minister’s Questions.

You’ve had the back story.

From his own mouth, we know Boris Johnson attended a “bring your own bottle” party in his back garden at Downing Street while we were all being told we couldn’t even have a cuppa with friends in ours.

And somehow, inexplicab­ly, he still thinks he needs an inquiry to determine whether or not that was wrong.

Well, for what it’s worth, Boris, you were wrong.

And you need to pack up your (increasing) troubles in your old kit bag and take that infuriatin­g smile as far away as possible.

I coped with cancer and still managed to stick to the Covid rules.

During this pandemic I was diagnosed, operated on and began my recovery from cancer.

I was given my (delayed because of Covid) biopsy results on my own.

Because of Covid rules, I got the “you’ve got cancer” talk with nobody to hold my hand.

I was dropped off outside the hospital and did the lonely walk to surgery on my own. Because of Covid rules.

Then I had to walk back, neck stitched and body weary, carrying my bag, ON MY OWN while my husband waited anxiously in the car park.

Because we stuck to the Covid rules, Boris.

I couldn’t see my dad, hug my best friends or worship in my church because collective­ly we took the rules you imposed seriously.

And do you want to hear the real kicker, prime minister?

On May 20, when you spent 25 minutes in what must have been the most miserable work do in the history of knees-ups if you don’t even know it really was a party, my colleague Sue was being buried. She died from Covid. Families grieved and suffered while Downing Street threw a party.

It was two days after Alan Wightman watched his own mother’s funeral online.

And the same day Amy Hessen was given the news that her mother had died while she was kept at a distance.

The utter and deplorable disregard for the people you are privileged to serve is as mind-boggling as it’s disgusting.

Where is your empathy? Where is your decency?

It also throws up even more questions about the people employed in the services of our government.

Did nobody think that, while press conference­s were going on in one room imploring the nation to do hard things, it was a bad idea for the people in the rest of the building to bring some booze to work?

Spare a thought for the real Covid heroes.

My best friend also worked through the pandemic.

In a Scottish accident and emergency department.

She’s since resigned. “You can only tell so many people they’ve lost their loved ones over the phone before it crushes you, Lindsay,” she told me.

She never saw the light of day in this pandemic, far less enjoyed the chance to make the most of the sunshine.

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