On a recent holiday in Prague, I attended the city hospital for treatment.
The hospital was next to the River Vltava, and was exceptionally clean, but it was perhaps half a century behind conditions back in the UK.
For two hours I waited with my wife in a long corridor directly opposite the door to the doctors.
The corridor must have been nearly as long as a football field.
While sitting and waiting, occasionally large containers on trolleys went past us pushed and pulled by two people dressed in hospital gowns and headgear.
After a while I decided to stretch my legs and satisfy my curiosity.
I discovered that one end of the corridor led to the operating theatre and the other end led to the hospital morgue.
We concluded that during our short stay at least three people may have died, but I had lived to tell the tale and continued to enjoy the wonderful city of Prague and its marvellous people, who on the metro promptly offer their seats to the aged and infirm, unlike in Sheffield where seats for the elderly are often claimed by the young.