We at the Diary know, of course, how very versatile all you advertising
folk are down at WCRS - Robin Wight tells us all the time. But, when one
of our unceasing moles unearthed what the group board account director
and BMW supremo, Steven Knight, was up to last weekend, well, you could
hear the squirming all the way down to Mothercare.
Dr Knight, as he is now lovingly referred to by all in Great Queen
Street, has romped home with Campaign’s ‘What not to do with your wife
on a Sunday morning award 1995’ by the simple expedient of putting on
his Dr Kildare white coat and stethoscope outfit and getting his hands
just a wee bit dirty.
Anyway, skating over the minor details, he and his ever-loving wife,
Tracey (who learned the art of quick delivery from the trenches at Banks
Hoggins O’Shea), were all set to have their baby in a hospital in
Beaconsfield.
However, the Sunday before last Tracey woke up with a few tummy pains
and, despite being a zillion months pregnant did not want to burden her
family with any unnecessary worry. Unfortunately, by the time she could
bear her agony no longer, neither could the baby.
Moments later, a bouncing nought-year-old named Beatrice arrived hotfoot
into the world sans doctor, midwife or any of the other services the
council-tax payers of Beaconsfield have come to expect. However, she did
have Steve, an expert in ultimate driving machines, to help with all the
pushing and shoving and wotnot that goes on at such occasions. We would
have asked who cut the cord, but the reporter fainted.
So, the Diary has to congratulate those training schemes down at WCRS.
Whatever they’re doing, they’re producing the kind of tough, dependable
people that the health service obviously needs.
NB: We all like happy endings and, in this case, mother and baby are
doing well. Steve has gone to have a lie down...
