Every Sunday evening I cycle to the hospital full of foreboding. It is a feeling that seems to be generated merely by the transition from being at home to being at work irrespective of the difficulty of the cases awaiting me. This evening visit is a ritual I have performed for many years and yet, try as I might, I cannot get used to it and escape the dread and pre-occupation of Sunday afternoons – almost a feeling of doom – as I cycle along the quiet backstreets.
