The number of baby deaths in the UK is still shocking, especially for poorer families. In a few days’ time you can do something about it
Prince William and I were born 9 months apart, about half way back to the founding of the NHS. I could do a trite little line here. “The world was a different place back then,” I could quip, “when the Russians were threatening Europe and the media followed every moment of a royal princess’s pregnancy and all the music sounded like it was from the ‘80s.” It would be hilarious but tragically wrong, because it really was a different place.
A September baby, I was born into the cold and dark of one of the most brutal winters ever seen in Britain. In the Midlands, temperatures plummeted to an astonishing (for England) -25.2C. The River Severn iced over, while commuters were trapped on trains when the doors froze solid. William missed all that because his parents planned better, but he had another big problem to contend with, a problem called ‘being born in the nineteen eighties.’
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