Breathtaking: ITV drama prompts Yorkshire Post editor to reveal internal covid-19 pandemic email

Breathtaking. Did you see it? I can still see it. There are two more episodes to come (for me) and whilst I feel it is the least I can do - watch the dramatisation of the hell those working in the NHS went through during the height of the Covid-19 pandemic - it is with a degree of trepidation that I’ll do so.

That is because Yorkshire’s own actress Joanne Froggatt, playing the lead role of Dr Abbey Henderson, is so devastatingly brilliant at recreating the harrowing despair of it all. All of the hopelessness, confusion and worry. It all came flooding back. It will for you. You won't know whether to thank Joanne for her incredible talent or kick her in the shins! Equally, you may not know that Dr Henderson’s character was made possible by NHS consultant Rachel Clarke who, on the front-line of the pandemic for the NHS, captured the events of each day in a diary, once she'd managed to get herself home for a rest. Breathtaking is that true account, brought to life.

Prior to last night’s episode airing, we caught up with Joanne about Breathtaking and something she told us gave me goosebumps:

“It involved me immediately and, yes: there were tears on my cheeks. In the nigh-on 30 years that I’ve been performing professionally, nothing, absolutely nothing, has affected me so personally and so very deeply. I could see it all, in my mind, and so vividly. I knew that I had to do it. No question.”

Bearing in mind I read those words on screen, as I proofread The Magazine almost a week prior to its publication and a week before the airing of Breathtaking; I think she gave me goosebumps because I knew Joanne wasn’t going to play the role of Dr Henderson, she was going to be her, whilst all at the same time being every other NHS worker who endured the horror of it all. It is already, after just one episode for me, a remarkably meticulous account of how unprepared we were as a nation for what happened.

Diverging from the drama itself (I don’t want to spoil it for you) and placing myself entirely and knowingly at risk of being branded Corporal Hindsight (there’s already a Captain, right?) Breathtaking transported me right back to one of the most difficult moments of my working life, where scores of people were looking to me for answers and guidance - where no playbook existed. There was no Haynes manual. Can you imagine? Covid-19: what to do and when during a deadly pandemic.

You will recall that in the days leading up to the first UK lockdown, we were being offered words of reassurance from the then Prime Minister Boris Johnson. He told the nation on 16th March that non-essential contact and travel ought to stop. On 19th March he announced that we would ‘turn the tide of coronavirus in 12 weeks’. Now, as you’re loyal subscribers, I will share with you an all-desks email I sent to my team in between those Ministerial missives. I have not altered a single letter of it. It read:

—

On Wed, 18 Mar 2020 at 5:25 pm, James Mitchinson wrote:

A reminder: I want as many people - who normally work out of No 1 Leeds - as possible to work remotely or from home tomorrow, please.

For clarity: it is fine for some to come into the office. We are not enduring any sort of lock-down. We are simply testing the remote IT infra and IT are working around the clock to help us. This is a team effort and extra hands are at the pump for us tomorrow in case we need them.

If you need to come in, that's fine. However, I want to put a load on the system tomorrow that tests its capability. It may not work and we may need to come in as a result but try we must in order to best-ready ourselves for a lock-out.

So, if you can - and your basecamp is No 1 Leeds - WFH tomorrow. Your line manager has set up comms channels and new hangouts. Everyone has kit. Everyone has links to tools. Everything possible has been done to make this work. Stay close as a team as the day progresses and if you need help, shout to me quickly.

OK?

We can do this, guys. However long it takes. Look after you and yours and together we can look after the business.

JM

—

THIS is what the newsroom looked like at 9.34am the following day. We did it, and I owe a debt of thanks to my colleagues. I always will.

Exactly one week later, 26th March, the Prime Minister locked the nation down. I still don’t really know why I sent my guys home a week earlier. Under the auspices of ‘official guidance’ it wasn’t necessary at that point, though I know it now seems blindingly obvious. Yet, I was under no orders to send anyone home just then. And, of course, I had no idea of what was to come. I mean, I’d never heard of Covid-19 let alone knew how to deal with it. Just reading that email back in my darkened office, I feel emotional - guilty, even - that I felt so disoriented. I always know what to do next. That’s my job. Always. I didn’t, though.

I wonder, now, what more I could have done. I’m not sure I ever have or ever will be able to offer my colleagues enough credit or thanks for everything they did to look after The Yorkshire Post during that time, as well as one another. Me included.

I’ve not shared this with many people but I struggled terribly with my own head during those early days and weeks of working from home in isolation, in a small box room with little light. I was getting poorly quickly, and, but for my wife spotting it and helping me deal with it, I’d have been in real trouble. But I wasn’t the only one. In fact, as I stated repeatedly at the time, I was one of the lucky ones. That much is clear from watching Breathtaking.

If you haven’t yet started the three-parter, prepare yourself for a haunting insight into the relentless bombardment the NHS faced. Casualty after casualty, person after person, loved one after loved one needing the help of NHS - and all of its workers - on a daily basis. In those early stages, exhausted staff were left exposed to a highly transmissible disease without appropriate protective clothing or equipment. Teams of doctors, nurses, clinicians, surgeons all gathered together for briefings, all sharing the same air before going back out onto wards that rattled and fizzed and wheezed and beeped and cried and screamed and and and … hospitals from a warzone. A conflict against an invisible enemy where your own generals are prepared to let bodies pile high.

Imagine being either person on the end of one of these phone calls:

Nurse: ‘I’m sorry. Your husband/wife/dad/mum/grandma/grandpa/aunty/uncle/sister/brother has died.’

Next of kin: ‘I’m coming, now, to be with them.’

Nurse: ‘No, I’m sorry. You can’t. You must, please, stay away. For your own safety. Please.’

I can barely stand the inhumanity of what NHS staff were told to do. How can I begin to comprehend what those in the NHS went through then, and have to live with forever? Families sharing final moments over Facetime, like avatars in a make-believe world, brought grotesquely to life.

I’m sorry. I know. It’s hard to go back there, isn’t it? Listen…

…I’ve taken too much of your time. Thank you for taking the time to read this. I did warn you it would be a little raw, incoherent. My apologies for that.

I'm sorry, too, that today I haven't been able to talk about the lies, the greed, the profiteering, the philandering (I mean, seriously: the Health Secretary of the day, having it away on the job behind his wife’s back, inside Parliament, whilst trying to deal with a deadly pandemic? Nah. We can’t write that. It’s too far-fetched. The whole thing loses credibility if we’re too far-fetched!), the law breaking, the boozing, the corruption, the ineptitude, the contempt. Let’s see how you react to this one. Perhaps I should make this a three-parter, too? There’s so much more to say.

Take care,

James

—

Write to me at: [email protected] - it’s nice to read a friendly word or two.

—

Reader note: we rarely publish James’ newsletters as articles – and once a week he writes exclusively for paying subscribers. To ensure you don’t miss a single one, subscribe today.