Doctor memoirs are an oversaturated category these days. I’ve read quite a few and this is one of the better ones. It does have its issues, which include the entries varying wildly in length from a few sentences to pages, the book showing its age due to changes in the NHS (though that isn’t the book’s fault of course!), and wanting to slap Ruby a fair few times.

But it’s a good book in spite of this. I’ve laughed, smiled, and felt emotional. My husband asked what was wrong when I squealed about the razors. I wept an internal tear for Maurice. The book’s merits outweigh its negatives. As I can’t give it a three-and-a-half star rating, the merits to me are enough to round it up to four stars.