ON A recent visit to Bournemouth Hospital, I found myself waiting in the corridor for a few minutes until the ward doors opened for visiting time.

As I did so, a porter pushed the food trolley up the slight slope in front of me, crashing it into the wall twice, whilst at the same time laughing and calling out loudly in a foreign language to his colleagues. The third time he crashed the trolley into the hand-cleansing dispenser.

On the ward, I was introduced to the ‘dedicated care assistant’ who was looking after the elderly lady who I had come to visit.

Attempting to read my friend’s details out loud to me from a typed summary, the assistant got her age wrong by 10 years, thought she lived in Bournemouth, whereas she lived in Poole, and failed to note until I pointed it out that she lived alone – vital information as my friend was about to be discharged.

The assistant, it has to be said, was a charming young lady, but when I gave her further details about my friend’s home circumstances, which I thought might be useful to her, it was obvious that she did not have the required skills in English to note them down.

Was I unlucky?

Were these particular members of staff just having a bad day?

I suspect not.

As a retired GP, I found this to be an intensely depressing experience.

ANDREW NORMAN, Hurst Hill, Poole