CRITICISING the NHS is a national pastime for many – maybe these people should try living in the USA for a while and then count their blessings.  

Last Thursday, whilst wearing slippers, I managed to trip over on fitted carpet (don't ask) and thought I had broken my toe. My wife drove me to the minor injuries unit in Tavistock, where she could park free of charge (!) just outside the entrance, which was handy as I was wearing only one shoe.  

I was seen immediately, the nurses could not have been nicer, and they even gave me my first ever ride in a wheelchair.  I had to wait a little while for my X-ray, but even in private hospitals, radiographers are entitled to a lunch break. Even the vending-machine coffee was drinkable.  

Mercifully, I had avoided a fracture, and so now, although my big toe is the colour of an aubergine, and in the coldest snap so far this winter I am wearing open-toed sandals, I count my blessings in having such a valuable medical resource on my doorstep.  

Unfortunately, my experience cannot be measured numerically and inserted in a bean-counter's spreadsheet. As the sainted Joni Mitchell once sang: 'You don't know what you've got till it's gone'.

Terry Hyde

Tavistock Road

Yelverton