When I got my blue envelope inviting me for my first dose of the Covid vaccine last week, it came with a wee turquoise leaflet entitled “What to expect after the Covid-19 vaccine”. It listed a whole range of common and less common symptoms, from a sore arm to fatigue. But what it didn’t mention – and what I didn’t foresee – was how going for vaccination would make me feel. In the hours after my jag, I felt tearful.

It wasn’t that the jag was sore – my mum was the nurse who administered mine and her years of experience ensured it was quick and painless! – nor was it that I had any negative side effects. It wasn’t for any negative reason at all. I soon realised that the reason I felt tearful was because of how bloody wonderful the National Health Service is, and how extraordinarily fortunate we are to have it.

When the NHS was founded in 1948, British people were struggling with all manner of ills after a crippling world war. Millions couldn’t afford to see a doctor; infant mortality was high, malnutrition was endemic thanks in part to strict rationing, and men couldn’t expect to see their 67^th birthday. The plan was to create a truly national service to improve and sustain the health of the population, “from the cradle to the grave”. Crucially, it was to be free at the point of need, paid for through taxation.

In the seven decades since the NHS was founded, it has had its problems. Long waiting lists for mental health treatment are a crisis. I know firsthand – I waited 9 months to see a specialist in 2019, and then the service was pulled half way through my treatment due to budget cuts. There is a postcode lottery of ageing hospitals and health centres, delayed or cancelled operations, and it’s not always the most efficient.

But here’s the thing. Virtually none of those problems is the fault of the NHS staff. Where there are failings in our NHS, they are usually due to policy or funding decisions made by politicians. I don’t want to get too much into party politics here, but if I say there’s one party who opposed the NHS’ creation and have tried to quietly dismantle it at every chance they get in order to let their private sector profiteering pals in, you know which party I’m talking about. Other parties aren’t blameless, but some have a pretty good record.

But I don’t want to talk about politicians here. I have started writing a gushing tribute to the NHS – the greatest institution in the world. A bold claim? Perhaps, but that’s my honest opinion. In every measure the NHS is itself responsible for, it is succeeding.

When I had serious mental health struggles, the NHS was there for me.  When I was in agony with a grumbling appendix problems in the middle of the night in my teens, the NHS was there for me. When I had a chest infection last year, the NHS was there for me. When beloved family members have had babies, or health problems, or scares, or needed support, or reached their final days, the NHS has been there for us.

The NHS is glorious. It’s not perfect, but it’s everything you could ever need and more. And it’s all free, paid for in advance for a rainy day. I love everything about it. Yes, even the dog-eared posters and magazines in the doctors’ surgery waiting room. Even the smell of cleaning products and soup that meet you when you pass the RVS café in the hospital. Even the dated paint jobs in the corridors. All of it.

Sometimes it seems like it’s falling apart at the seams. “A victim of its own success” as some have explained it. The more people the NHS treats, improving their health and prolonging their lives, the greater the pressure on it in the long term to provide more specialised services for a more scrupulous and demanding public. If the NHS is overstretched – and I think we all agree it is – the answer is more funding, not less. The NHS never "fails" us; inadequate NHS funding fails us.

If ever you have to wait for hours at A&E, or you have to wait months for an operation, just remember that it’s not the fault of the doctors, nurses, cleaners or receptionists. Don’t be tempted to take our your stress on them. They are being asked to do too much with not nearly enough funding. Save your anger for the politicians who put these dedicated people in that position. Remember it when you vote.

Imperfect, but dependably always there when the unexpected happens. That’s the NHS. This pandemic is something we all knew could happen in theory, but in reality, none of us really knew just how much our lives would change, or that it would strike when it did. But it did happen. We weren't ready, but the NHS was, and one year later, we’re advancing through the vaccination programme at a rate of knots.

My first vaccination appointment was in my local sports centre – the Gytes in Peebles. When I entered the hall, where I’d once played basketball at school and attended roller skating birthday parties as a kid, I was met with an unrecognisable sight.

Rows of well-spaced chairs with people waiting after their jags.

A queue of about ten people reading the information booklets they’d been handed at the door intently.  

A small army of nurses and other NHS staff dressed in blue, disinfecting seats and tables between patients.

And above all, a quiet, comforting, drama-free peace. The public and the NHS staff alike were going through the motions calmly and efficiently. I say “going through the motions” as if this is something routine. It isn’t. None of this is normal. But that quiet efficiency and display of duty suggested a well-honed operation. The place had been transformed from sport centre to an efficient, life-saving temple.