大象传媒

Thank you, from a man you'll never meet.

My wife Fiona and I were visiting on Cape Cod, Massachusetts on 11 September 2001. Needless to say, our flight back to Scotland was cancelled. Until we could return home, we stayed with my brother in New Jersey.

We'd brought only enough of Fiona's medications to cover our expected stay. To obtain more, we went to the Hackettstown NJ community hospital. The staff there kindly and efficiently contacted our surgery, checked her prescriptions, and found American equivalents. Then, to be sure everything was OK, they called the A and E doctor for his review and approval. He bustled in, a busy little man whose accent could only be New York Jewish.

"The French tell us we should have been more careful," he chattered. "They should have been more careful in 1939!" Then he turned to me, bowed, and said, "Thank you."

I couldn't tell him I was a four year old boy in Seattle in 1939. His thanks were heartfelt, and I could only accept them in the name of the British people he thought I represented. In a way, I suppose I did. Now, though, it's time to pass his gratitude on to the British public.

Thank you.

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