On Monday December 21^st  and for the next couple of days until Christmas Eve in the early evenings along with many others I will be looking up into the sky hoping it will be cloudless as I attempt to see evidence of one of the celestial rarities. I will be searching for what is called the Great Conjunction which is the coming together of Saturn and Jupiter in their closest alignment since 1226.  The event happens  when the solar system’s two largest planets appear side by side in a “great conjunction” above the horizon soon after sunset.

It has been reported that the Vatican believes that the original Star of Bethlehem may have been such a Great Conjunction. Be that as it is may at the end of the coming week, we will be celebrating the Christian festival of Christmas. It will be a time of especial importance to those of Christian belief but even to the millions of others who are not Christian, Christmas Day has a significance way beyond its 24 hours. This year we will be spending the day in very different ways to the norm. This will be exceptionally hard for many not least those who have been separated from their loved ones for too long in care homes and in community.

Twenty-nine years ago, I was privileged to spend some time in Bethlehem and in Israel-Palestine in general. Bethlehem is a town of modernity etched with memory; its significance as a place of new beginning and possibility is worn wisely upon its ancient shoulders. It was also beyond the romanticism of tourist trinkets and pilgrim souvenirs, a place of grinding poverty, inequality and discrimination. But one of my lasting memories of my time there was that it and its predominantly Palestinian inhabitants were singularly proud of belonging to a place of becoming, of being citizens in the birthplace of the Christ. I remember talking to someone there and quizzing them about what was special about the place given that there was huge historical and archaeological debate and scepticism about most the so-called ‘holy sites.’ The response was simple, ‘This is a place where the ordinary is turned into the extra-ordinary.’

There is indeed a truth in that analysis. Throughout the history of both the cultural and theological depiction of the birth of the Christ, there is an inescapable simplicity of interpretation, which would contend that this is all about the ordinary becoming extraordinary. In a turning of the tables of expectation Christians believe that divine power and omnipotence incarnates itself into the fragility of flesh and blood. The power of the universe and creation is imaged in the vulnerability of a new-born, defenceless child. The assertion is that the extraordinariness of divinity becomes the ordinariness of humanity, and by this the Christian story asks for the elevation of humanity in all its reality, vulnerability and pain.

So, next week when I look to the skies, I might not be searching for a Star of Bethlehem, and given the Scottish weather I might not even see a Great Conjunction, but I will spend time reflecting on the truth that it is in the ordinariness of our living that we are surprised by the extraordinary, that wonder and awe is enshrined in our humanity lived at its best.

And as I reflect, I will know deep down that the year that has passed has evidenced that truth. We looked out from lockdown and watched folks going about their daily work despite carrying the burden of fear. They were ‘ordinary’ people doing ‘ordinary’ jobs which on any other day and at any time would have gone unnoticed, unheralded and poorly rewarded. They were the home carers, the cleaners and supermarket staff, the nurses and bus drivers, the care home staff and hospital porters. They were evidence of the ordinary being turned extra-ordinary.

As most of us sat cocooned in safety away from the virus, we witnessed communities coming together in acts of generosity and kindness, finding solidarity in the midst of suffering, and supporting one another to be our better selves. Whilst the air may have been tangible with absence and isolation, there was also as sense of mutuality and concern, which went way beyond the clapping of a Thursday night or the platitudes of politicians.

Christmas is about turning the tables of expectation upside down. The coming days will undoubtedly be filled with concern and anxiety for many, regret and loneliness for yet more. They will be days of memory when the absence of a loved one who has died will ache particularly hard. There will be moments when Christmas days of the past, togetherness and laughter will fill memory and bring tears. But I hope it will also be a time when we think of those who have given to others in so many ways in the months that have passed. They have given to each of us the priceless gift of compassion and community. This may be a Christmas less ordinary but it is also one whose strangeness should give us space to reflect and remember, to be thankful for and to commit to being different and better.

One of the most famous poems of this season is the ‘Journey of the Magi’ by T.S.Eliot. Written nearly a 100 years ago, and now most definitely of its time, it describes the experience of the Magi, the ‘wise men’ of our childhood nativity stories who followed a celestial happening to arrive at the birth of a baby. In one glorious phrase Eliot describes them changed by the experience of following that star to see birth contradict expectation. The experience transformed them forever so that they could not go home to the routine predictability of their past life. ‘We returned to our places, these Kingdoms, But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,’

I hope that whatever we do on Christmas Day and whoever we are with, that we might look to the skies and spend some time thinking of those whose ordinariness of living and loving in the last nine months has the potential to transform us all, and as we do to remember those for whom this season is one of sadness and absence, and who this year will be more alone than silence. I hope we will give space and time to all those unnoticed and unloved. I hope that we can all have the courage to find a determination to learn from the pain of the last few months and commit not to return to the way things have been or still are, but to walk together into the creation of a new, more human way of being. I hope that we will carry with us into that future the gift of ordinary loving made extraordinary.

Happy Christmas  when it comes.

“A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.”
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arriving at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.”

T.S.Eliot, Faber and Faber.

Donald Macaskill.

Regular readers will know that my family roots for generations are in the peat and crofts of Skye. My own parents were the first of their line to venture permanently from their villages to seek livelihood elsewhere. They were representative of thousands who sought economic security and prosperity away from the straths and glens of their upbringing. In the years after the wars of the 20^th century echoes of emptiness began to fill once vibrant places. My parents were part of the so-called ‘Highland Diaspora’ which formed in the cities of the central belt and most especially Glasgow. Indeed, my late mother used to say that she heard more Gaelic spoken on the Dumbarton Road in Patrick than in her own home village. So much so that my earliest memories are filled with recollections of ceilidhs, song, poetry and entertainment which almost became a weekly ritual of re-connection, a binding back to home and a renewal of identity. What they found in their newly adopted city was a place of welcome, a people open with practical ways of making you feel that you belong, neighbours able to catch hold of hurt and offer healing, a place willing to learn from the stranger and change when it was needed, a community moulded by warmth to make the stranger feel at home.

But despite a real sense of belonging, I also always felt in my parents a sense of dislocation and tension. They loved Glasgow and it’s in your face realness and freedom, but they also ached for the abandonment of hills and the warmth of Hebridean belonging, they yearned for the familiarity of language and dialect, for the predictability of the changing landscape of their childhoods. They were in every sense of the word migrants in a city of tenement and sandstone, and maybe it’s not surprising that their friendships were often with those who knew the rhythm of their own heritage and sensed the timbre of their own tale. It is maybe not surprising that my mother especially formed friendship so easily with those who came new to the neighbourhood, regardless of which part of the world they came from. In their eyes she saw the sense of yearning but also the desire to belong.

It is I suspect because of the sense of being the child of those who had not fully settled, those who felt at first strangers amongst the people around them that I have always warmed to the experience of the incomer, the migrant, and the new arrival.

A lot of those emotions came back to me last week when I received an email from someone I know who works in a care home. She is Polish and with her family has made Scotland her home over the last decade and a half. Her letter was one of both gratitude, sadness and anxiety. Like many others in our care homes during Covid19 she has gone above and beyond in compassionate care for those who she supports. She is no less committed to ensuring the dignity of residents today than she was at the start of the year. But what has changed is a growing sense within her that she is increasingly not welcome, not by her colleagues, her community or even her nation. Rather she expressed a deep concern about the implications both of the Brexit negotiations and also what the new measures on UK immigration might mean for others she knows. She described a growing media rhetoric and political tone which has made her feel she is not needed, not wanted and not welcome. I find it deeply sad that she is so unsettled by a political environment which has created such uncertainty, division and at times xenophobia. The contribution which she and so many thousands of others have made over the years to making Scotland into the place I call home can never be under-estimated. Over 6% of our care workforce in Scotland come from countries in Europe other than Scotland. They have shown themselves to be the best of us, full of life and love, compassion and care, a living example of how you build community by having an open door rather than a closed gate. Yet in recent weeks and months so many have been made by others to feel unwelcome and unwanted.

Next Friday, the 18^th December, is the United Nations International Migration Day. It is a day to recognise the astonishing contribution of those who leave their place of birth to go elsewhere. It is a day to affirm their human rights.

In a very real sense, we are all of us the inheritors of the courage of those who despite all the odds moved from their own place to go out and to seek a better future and a new life, some because of little choice, many because of the ambition of their humanity. Scotland perhaps more than any other nation is a nation of migrants.

The mark of any civilised society is the extent to which you prepare a place of welcome for the migrant. It is a descriptor of the nature of true community which we are increasingly called to protect and advocate for. The UN states that today more people than ever live in a country other than the one in which they were born. While many individuals migrate out of choice, many others migrate out of necessity. In 2019, the number of migrants globally reached an estimated 272 million, 51 million more than in 2010. One of every ten migrants is under the age of 15.

As the son of those who were strangers in a new place, and as I remember those from my widest family who left these shores to go to distant parts of the earth to make their own beginning, I recognise both the ache and the loneliness of their experience, but I also acknowledge the vibrant, ingenuity, contribution and skill brought about by those who together seek to create a new community and a new nation. The Covid19 experience has taught us all how connected we are one to the other across the globe. It has shown that the solidarity of compassion is stronger than self-interest.

Today as I write this blog there is real uncertainty over the future of our relationship with the European Union as Brexit talks go to the wire. But regardless of the traumas ahead one thing I remain convinced of, and that is that to be strong, creative, contributive and compassionate, we need to hear voices that are not our own, dialects which are new to our ears, ideas which challenge our practice, innovation which upsets our predictability – in other words we need to be a nation that welcomes the migrant and the stranger. It is only as we weave together the threads of our common humanity into shared purpose that we create true community and a modern nation.

Years ago, I spent time reading the stories of those who had been immigrants from Europe into North America. Many of these were Scots and I remember looking for my family name on the etched memorial stones of Ellis Island and searching for ancestors amongst the stories of arrival in Canada. Their memories resonated with the feelings of my own parents and forbears who left Scotland.

In Halifax, Nova Scotia, where so many from Skye arrived as strangers, there is a tremendous collection of poetry written by the new settlers, some at that moment, other years later. I end with one of these because its simplicity shows what we gain by being a place of welcome, by having an open door to the world. It shows that what our care sector has cherished the most from its international workforce, is not solely an economic or physical contribution, but rather the dedication of individual hearts which is daily given to create new community. We dare not lose this.

It was a
rough crossing

their landing
delayed by fog

& darkness.
Four of them

travelled inland
knowing nothing

of this land now
theirs. A

lifetime later
the sole survivor

returns to
this place bearing

witness to
an act of courage

recorded now
on fragile paper

& on the surface of
a human heart.

A poem written by Harry Howie, a Scottish Immigrant, who travelled aboard the Aquitania, arriving October 1948 in Pier 2, Halifax.

Donald Macaskill

One of the most famous pieces of writing about human rights undoubtedly belongs to the so-called Mother of Human Rights, Eleanor Roosevelt who wrote:

“Where, after all, do universal human rights begin? In small places, close to home – so close and so small that they cannot be seen on any maps of the world. Yet they are the world of the individual person; the neighborhood he lives in; the school or college he attends; the factory, farm, or office where he works. Such are the places where every man, woman, and child seek equal justice, equal opportunity, equal dignity without discrimination. Unless these rights have meaning there, they have little meaning anywhere. Without concerted citizen action to uphold them close to home, we shall look in vain for progress in the larger world.”

Today is UN Human Rights Day. It is an annual opportunity to reflect upon and to celebrate the role and value of human rights in modern society. For Eleanor Roosevelt, in order for human rights to have meaning and purpose they had to speak to the ordinariness of human living, the mundanity of interaction and the essence of what it meant to be related both to friend and stranger. This last year has been a year unlike any other for all of us but perhaps especially for those living in our care homes and for their families. Theirs has been an experience of a world turned upside down and inside out. Places of interaction and busyness have overnight become empty and silent; the love and touch of family has been excluded in the name of protection and suppression of the virus; the devastation of death and disease has taken too many lives and harmed beyond healing the lives of yet many more. This has been a truly awful year and for many remains so.

In this short piece I want to reflect on human rights and what has happened in aged care facilities and in care homes. I have commented elsewhere and will leave to another time a fuller analysis about whether what has happened in Scotland and what we have permitted to occur has indeed as is oft commented upon been on the one hand a ‘human rights scandal’ or on the other hand been the necessary yet distressing proportionate balancing of protection with freedom. Here I want to reflect on one of the major challenges both in our response to the Coronavirus to date but also inevitably into the future – the role of infection prevention and control (IPC). In doing so I am drawing on thoughts from a talk to the New York Academy of Medicine a few weeks ago in which I took part in an international exploration of the role of IPC in care homes across the globe. I am very grateful to colleagues for insight and conversation. In that conference I called for the urgent articulation of a human rights-based approach to IPC. I think such a development would be an appropriate legacy as together as societies we seek to live in the face of pandemics.

My starting point in this reflection is the personal supposition that human rights are essentially first and foremost about relationship and only secondly about legal recourse. The development of the UN Declaration of Human Rights was an attempt to set right the perversity of human interaction and exchange which had so corrupted and destroyed millions of lives. The inability to be truly human and to treat the ‘other’ with dignity and respect had cruelly overshadowed the world, leaving lives shattered and annihilated in the horrors of the Second World War. Those who gathered together in New York in 1948 sought to state in ink and on paper a framework for relatedness and co-responsibility which would act as a mirror for a world seeking to grow again and heal itself after the rotten harvest of hate reaped in the years before. Their aim was to centre humanity upon principles of mutual regard, respect, togetherness, solidarity and peace. But critically, as Roosevelt opined, these principles had to be and were to become rooted in the realities of normal encounter and community. They were not the statements of a paper treaty, inscribed on a parchment scroll unopened and unchanged – they were and are a living, breathing and vibrant document by which the world would be changed into togetherness, and in response to such change the Declaration would itself seek to grow and mature.

So, against this premise that human rights are about relationship, the restoration of co-responsibility and mutual regard, what about the way in which infection prevention and control has worked out during the pandemic in care homes?

I want to use the international framework PANEL to pose some questions and raise some issues. PANEL stands for participation, accountability, non-discrimination, empowerment and legality.

Participation.

The embedding of a human rights-based approach to any scenario or situation requires participation and involvement of those most affected either by a practice or by decisions being made. There is I believe a very real sense that we have as a society failed to engage with, include and involve those who have been most affected by decisions to lockdown, to limit, constrain and exclude. ‘We’, whoever that ‘we’ have been, have done to and decided for.

Now I am the first to accept that in a crisis, when the ship is about to hit the rocks, then you need decisive action not debate to steer away from the danger. So, in the initial stages of the pandemic decisions could not be as participative and inclusive as they would ordinarily be. It was entirely proportionate and reasonable, in order to achieve the legitimate aim of immediate protection and safety, to literally save lives, to take measures without consultation and engagement. But… there comes a time when the prevention of infection and the control of it by actions which exclude and potentially cause more harm, necessitate not just compliance but owned acceptance and consensual agreement. There comes a time when the autonomy and rights of individuals, whether residents or family members, mean that they require to have their voice heard and their words listened to. We have, I would contend, failed to adequately hear and listen to the voice of individuals who have been residents in our care homes. Now I am not talking about direct care and support because staff and others have continually engaged and involved residents. What I do mean is the extent to which decisions have been taken, suppositions made, and positions adopted  without the direct consent and involvement of people most affected. Acceptable initially, but increasingly indefensible as time has progressed and most certainly inexcusable nine months on. This relates not just to general guidance around visiting and exclusion, but also around self-isolation, encounter and interaction in a care home, around the ability of ‘free’ citizens with capacity to leave a building and their right to engage as equal citizens in normal activity and as part of wider community.

In summary, infection prevention and control measures have at times not been rooted in the human rights principle of participation, involvement, agreement and consent.

Accountability.

The second element of PANEL details that in any human rights practice there must be clear lines of accountability and responsibility. At essence when restrictions have had to be enacted there must be a mechanism to ensure the proportionate and reasonable application of restrictions. I fear at times we have used a sledgehammer to crack a nut. I fear that we have adopted IPC measures suitable and appropriate for an acute hospital setting and have sought to utilise these – with very little adaptation – into an environment which is a home. Care homes are not institutional settings but environments where there is group living and exchange, interaction and neighbourliness.

Another aspect of accountability must also surely relate to the degree to which scrutiny and inspection is used to assess and protect the human rights of any individual in any context. I seriously question whether scrutiny has achieved this outcome. Scrutiny in human rights terms involves a monitoring to ensure that the rights of citizens are protected even in instances where the State decrees an intervention is appropriate and proportionate. I think we need to have a serious debate about the extent to which the curtailment of individual human rights in the name of infection, prevention and control and to enable the safeguarding of the many has been accountable to the legalities of our human rights frameworks. Criticaly there is a clear necessity for independence in advocacy and voice where it is felt that the rights of individuals have not been given due accord.

Non-discrimination and Equality

This PANEL principle states that all forms of discrimination must be prohibited, prevented and eliminated. It further states that people who face the biggest barriers to realising their rights should be prioritised. I do wonder if our response to the challenges of aged care facilities across the world, not just in Scotland, has been influenced by widespread ageism and discrimination. Have we treated older person care and support in the way in which we would have others – in terms of prioritisation, resource, support and focus – I fear we have not. Have we sufficiently adapted measures and interventions to take account of the peculiar needs, for instance of those living with dementia and cognitive decline? You only need to speak to a care worker to learn just how impossible it is to encourage compliance around isolating in a room from someone who has no memory of instruction or understanding of their actions. Have we really understood the fear and hidden silence of those whose lives of encounter and banter were marshalled overnight into detachment and distance, where touch was removed, and contact curtailed? These are profound human rights questions which go to the heart of not just what is desirable in our infection prevention practices but what is morally and ethically acceptable and achievable without the limitation of autonomy and individual rights.

Empowerment

At the heart of this is the sense that everyone should understand their human rights, and be fully supported to take part in developing practices which affect their lives. I have stated above the absence of voice from those most affected. But when I look around at the global response to aged care, I see little evidence that internationally we have enabled professionals in care to be the leaders and to act autonomously in infection prevention and control. Rather the international commentary and contention has been that an overly clinical approach with all its assumptions has been utilised in aged care settings and that we have failed to adapt measures around IPC, resulting in a lack of fit for context and serving to dis-empower and negate the professionalism of care staff.

Legality

Lastly on this day especially I have to pose the question about the degree to which our international use of IPC measures has indeed been legitimate, proportionate and even legal in accordance with national and international frameworks and treaties.

Article 2 of the European Convention of Human Rights seeks to protect life – but it also acknowledges that the preservation of life is not the same as existence and the continuation of days. Have we protected life at all costs failing to respect individual wishes (even in a collective and group living environment)? I will never forget the email I received from a man of 104 who simply wanted to have a few hours with his children rather than months of isolation.  Article 3 clearly states that to treat individuals in a manner that strips away individuality, that damages their wellbeing both physical and psychological can be deemed to be equivalent to treatment which is degrading and demeaning of humanity . But perhaps most explicitly have we adhered to the requirements of Article 8?  Have we enabled people to exercise family life, to maintain and enhance psychological and physical integrity?

For all the legal requirements preventing human rights abuse is only one step towards the  fulfilment and realisation of these rights. There must also be active agency which results in deliberate intervention and action to promote and enhance these self-same rights. It is not enough just not to do; we are compelled positively to act.

I know I have posed more questions than offered answers. I know there will be some who read this as a treatise in simplicity, but on this Human Rights Day I would contend that it has never been more urgent than it is now to develop and articulate a response to infection which balances the rights of individuals better than what we have seen and still see in many places across the world. I would suggest it is a critical human rights question of our time.

There is no smaller place, no place closer to home, than the places and rooms, than the care homes and aged care facilities of our communities. We owe it to our better selves to ensure that we develop a more proportionate, risk-balanced, rights-respecting global approach to infection prevention and control. Not one that ignores the science but moulds that science to the realities of living and community; that grounds measures of intervention and restriction in a way that upholds and enhances the dignity, autonomy and human rights of all affected.

“Unless these rights have meaning there, they have little meaning anywhere. Without concerted citizen action to uphold them close to home, we shall look in vain for progress in the larger world.”

Donald Macaskill

I can hardly believe that we are back at homecare day and that it has been a year since I last wrote about my love of homecare and what it had meant to me personally as a homecare manager responsible for delivering services across Glasgow.

Sitting writing about and celebrating all that is good and amazing about homecare in December 2019, I would never have imagined that COVID was about to hit and bring with it the many changes we have seen since March this year.

As this is a celebration piece I am not going to dwell on the many ongoing challenges the workforce are currently experiencing as a result of COVID-19, but instead once more highlight again the wonderful work that homecare staff continue to deliver all year round.  This year more than any it is important to thank and celebrate these social care workers who despite the challenge, despite the difficulty of the work involved and despite the risk get up each morning and deliver their truly life changing work.  Care workers who support people to stay at home with their loved ones, to live in their own communities and empower them to live as full a life as possible.  This has been achieved with care and support from workers who encourage them each and every day and at a time when staff members are also struggling with the impact of COVID-19.

I would like to celebrate the resilience of our social care workforce who have said very little in the way of complaint but have risen to the challenge presented and continued to provide homecare services.  The staff who have voluntarily gone and have been tested for COVID-19 on a regular basis for their piece of mind and to ensure they are not passing on the infection to others and those they support.  A workforce whose absence levels dropped from the beginning of the pandemic and who have worked steadily to ensure that vitally important care is delivered to those most vulnerable in our communities.

I have been told directly by homecare managers how impressed they have been to witness their staffing teams deliver care services day after day while managing their own fears and concerns during this pandemic.  Care managers are the biggest champions of their own staff and you can hear the pride they feel as they speak of their workers and what they are managing to achieve against all odds.  I say against all odds as this is a sector that was extremely fragile before COVID-19 due to the sheer nature of their work, what they are asked to do and the little recognition and respect social care staff  generally receive.

Homecare is particularly special to me as I started as a home care worker and found my niche in life with this work.  Building relationships with people and eventually being instrumental in creating their care packages was a privilege.  I witnessed people overcoming huge adversity and some of the worst challenge’s life can throw at you.  Individuals who experienced ill health and accidents that dramatically changed their way of living and quality of life but were supported to regain their independence as much as possible and continue to enjoy the things that made them happy.  When you work in homecare you get to experience the very varied and different ways people choose to live their lives and to be a small part of that at times.  This time of year is historically challenging as staff are keen to have time off to spend with their families however in my experience a balance was always managed to be achieved and staff share many a laugh and festive cheer with those they care for and their family members.

Quite often a Santa hat and bits of tinsel were part of the Christmas care worker uniform (sadly not this year for infection control reasons) and generally people were in great spirits when working together over the holiday period.

COVID-19 has made us all focus on the importance of our relationships with others whether they are with our families, friends, work colleagues and those we meet during our work.  It is no wonder that homecare workers have stepped up and continued to make a huge difference to people by providing their essential care and support and ensuring they remain safe at home as building relationships is a huge part of the work they do.  These meaningful relationships between care workers and those they support are vitally important when providing intimate care and with encouraging and motivating people when they are experiencing difficulties.

Homecare is going to be such an important part of Christmas this year as families may not be as able to travel to each other and spend the same time together that they are used to doing.  This will mean that the homecare worker may be the only person that someone sees, and their support and company is more crucial now than ever.

My one wish at New Year this time around will be to ask again that social care gets the recognition it deserves, that homecare workers and all social care workers will be looked at and treated with the respect they are entitled to.  Home care and support workers will be treated as the highly skilled professionals they are, many with years of vast experience caring for people and their ability to bring that special comfort to those in pain and in need of support.

Merry Christmas to all of you out in our communities working hard, we see and understand what you manage to achieve and will shout about it as loud as we can until it is fully recognised by everyone.

Caroline Deane

Workforce Policy & Practice Lead