A pale winter sun shines through my office window. I sigh deeply. Even though I am one of the most successful men of my generation with one of the most demanding jobs imaginable, deep inside I have never felt quite so alone. How I long for someone who understands the real Matt.
I quickly get a grip. There is no point feeling sorry for myself. The NHS isn’t going to run itself. I fall to the floor to do eight press-ups, before returning to my desk. On the TV screen, a reporter runs a brief story about a new flu in China. I yawn. That could never happen here. Not while I am in charge of the country’s health.