Sometimes you can be too clever for your own good. After a vote in the House of Commons on Tuesday, I took a short-cut from the Chamber towards my office via a little-known staircase which leads from the Prime Minister’s Office to Speaker’s Court down below. I was probably trespassing, and it’s a route I had not used before and must have been unfamiliar with the carpeted staircase. Anyhow, towards the bottom, I found myself on the floor with a leg at an awkward angle. There was no-one around (thankfully not even the PM), so I hauled myself to my feet, stepped outside the heavy oak door, and promptly fell over again, my knee giving out beneath me. The Door-Keepers and Police helped enormously, and eventually I got my wheel-chair laden self back to Wiltshire, thence to RUH in Bath, where the fantastic surgeons successfully operated on my ruptured ligaments. Serves me jolly well right.

Anyhow, it means that I am currently in a leg brace and hobbling around on crutches for 6-8 weeks whilst I recuperate. Luckily, I have a fully functioning office at my home in Wiltshire, so I will be keeping up to date with emails and so on, and will be heading up to Parliament if I possibly can for all the main debates and votes. And my brilliant staff will be just as busy as usual.

So any false news that this was actually a clever ploy by the Whips to keep me away from the voting lobbies are fanciful. [PS The whips are actually the most helpful of HR experts, and not usually the ogres they are sometimes portrayed as.] I should be fully back in order by Christmas, so please forgive me in the meanwhile if I am less ‘around’ than I normally am.

There has been a flurry of letters in the last few days praising the NHS to the rafters, and asking me to suggest to the Chancellor that he should increase taxes in the Budget to pay for it. I totally agree that the NHS is the most wonderful of organisations. Truly the jewel in the British Crown, and providing some of the very best healthcare in the world free of charge to all. We are incredibly lucky locally with RUH, GWH, and first-class GPs like my own Dr Popli in Yatton Keynell. The NHS must be funded properly, and I will be speaking from experience over the next few weeks.

Yet I have some doubts about whether or not a first-class NHS can necessarily be best achieved simply by raising taxes. By how much, I wonder? And who is to pay them? This year only, or more and more taxation with every year to come? I am sure that we would all say, ‘a few hundred a year extra would be worth it.’ But why do we think that would be the right figure? The NHS must be properly funded and run, but I am just not convinced that a tokenistic tax increase, which might make us all feel better in ourselves, would necessarily be the magic wand which some people seem to think it would be.

So as I give myself over to the (highly capable) NHS in RUH, you can be certain that I will fight every corner in Government for it. And for now, I just crave your forgiveness if I am less active in Parliament or around North Wiltshire than usual.

Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.

If you look in to the Budget debate next week, or to Prime Minister’s Questions, or any of the great Parliamentary events, you may well be puzzled to see MPs cramming in to the aisles, sitting on the steps, and standing around the entrance. It’s because there are only 437 seats in the Chamber, for 650 MPs, so it’s a bit of a crush if they all turn up! It was done perfectly intentionally- to maintain the vibrant cock-pit of a debating chamber which has worked so well over the centuries. After the Chamber was destroyed in the Blitz, there was a brief discussion as to whether it should be expanded. Churchill stopped it to preserve its intimacy and excitement. “We shape our buildings; and then they shape us” as he famously remarked on the subject.

Every day starts off with prayers. They are said - usually using the same form as has been used for hundreds of years - by the Speaker’s Chaplain. It’s the only totally private moment in the day, with no visitors allowed in, and the TV cameras switched off. MPs stand to pray, and after a few introductory sentences they turn to face the green leather benches. No-one quite knows why. So that we do not stare at each other as we pray? Or is it a hangover from the days when MPs used the green leather benches as kneelers (as some still do in the House of Lords)

It’s a lovely little peaceful moment in the tumultuous whirly-gig which typifies the normal Parliamentary day. MPs of all religious faiths and none take part, enjoying the solace of silence and contemplation for a few minutes in their busy lives.

Being there for prayers is – by chance- also the only way you can book a seat for the day. You write your name on a little green ‘Prayer Card’ which is slotted in to a specially made slot behind each seat. So there’s a practical as well as a spiritual reason for being there at the start of the day’s business!

“Lord the God of righteousness and truth, grant to our Queen and her Government, to Members of Parliament and all in positions of responsibility, the guidance of your Spirit. May they never lead the Nation wrongly through love of power, desire to please, or unworthy ideals; but laying aside all private interests and prejudices keep in mind their responsibility to seek to improve the condition of all mankind; so may your Kingdom come and your Name be hallowed. Amen”

That’s the main prayer, and it has been said at the start of the day’s business for at least 500 years – through war, revolution, uprising. Through good times and bad. It’s wise words will see us through the current temporary turmoil of Brexit too.

There’s a fun quiz on BBC Radio Wiltshire called ‘Clueless’. It’s on the Sue Davies Show. (She’s been there as long as I have with that inimicable chirpy voice. What a great asset.) Listeners phone in with their answers to local place names from obscure clues and advise how to get there. Last Sunday the puzzle was how to get from the Fovant badges to a place whose clue was “Get yourself in a muddle and deep underground.”! Tis-bury. Geddit? Great fun, and intensely local. Getting from Fovant to Tisbuy involves a bit of a debate- via Ansty or Swallowcliffe? Now there’s a teaser for you.

I remember a dear old boy in Biddestone recounting how “I went to Chippenham [2 miles away] once – on the way to the war ‘twere.” More recently a highly intelligent and very able young woman from Box who did some work experience with me admitted that she had never been to London before (fair enough); indeed, with the exception of a school ski-ing trip she had never in her 18 years left the Corsham area.

We love the ultra-local. We love the places we know, where we are comfortable. We love the localism of BBC Radio Wilts and the Gazette and Herald. That’s the way we humans are. We build a nest around ourselves. Home Sweet Home. Home is where the heart is.

But are we parochial? Quite the contrary. Some of the most ‘local‘ people I speak to around North Wiltshire also have some of the greatest worldly wisdom. They are keenly interested in what is happening in Parliament and beyond. My dear old friend Miss Kitty Sparkes from Chippenham, who is 102 years of age and remembers being a nurse in the Blitz with only a pan instead of a tin hat, has the sharpest of minds and the keenest of interests in what is going on. (She is one of the staunchest Brexiteers I know as well.)

‘People from Somewhere’ are those who are well grounded, their feet in the Wiltshire clay; able to look out from certainty to uncertainty from the Known to the Unknown. “People from anywhere” are the jet-setting liberal elite who would despise localism and patriotism as ‘parochial and outdated.’ Saddest of all are ‘People from Nowhere’ who have neither local nor international roots. That way lies misery.

So let us rejoice in the truly local - the best route from Fovant to Tisbury. But let us at the same time look outwards; be local, not parochial; be aware and intelligent about wider Britain and the World. As Parliament starts back for what may well be one of the most turbulent of sessions, that may well be a good lodestar for the wandering and wondering local MP like me.

Do you ever get that hollow, sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that something is about to happen- something big; and something you can very probably do little about.

I was proud to stand beside the Prime Minister last Wednesday to welcome into Parliament 120 soldiers returning from Operations overseas. They have done sterling work for the security of our nation, and in my little speech of welcome, I also mentioned their families without whose loyal support their job would be impossible, those who have returned from operations with physical or mental injuries, and those comrades who will never return… Then on Friday, I joined the nation in rejoicing at the second Royal wedding of the year. Parliament, the military, the office of Prime Minister, the Royal Chapel in Windsor Castle, the Queen and Royal family. Another Royal announcement followed on Monday with the Duke and Duchess of Sussex revealing that they are to be parents in the Spring of next year. These are the very stuff which make up the structure of our society, and they should be respected and sustained.

Yet I do wish that the PM would listen to good sense in the Brexit negotiations and switch her attention to a trade deal with the EU after our departure, akin to that agreed with Canada. That would be acceptable, so we are told, to the EU; it would pass through Parliament with probably only limited opposition; and it would deliver to the people what they voted for – a clean departure from the EU.

However, for some reason, she seems determined to persist with the Chequers proposals, which are unacceptable to almost everyone; and with the Northern Ireland ‘Backstop’ arrangements, only made worse by the removal of a clear end-date, which would have the net effect of binding the UK to the European Customs Union indefinitely. If that is the ‘deal’ which she strikes with the European Commission on Wednesday, then it will not have my support in Parliament. I will vote against it, together with very many of my Conservative colleagues, the DUP who will not allow Northern Ireland to be ‘cut off ‘ from Great Britain in that way; and the Labour Party, bar a handful who may support the PM. If that is the case, then she will lose the vote on the ‘deal’ in Parliament. What happens then is anyone’s guess, but it must include a renewed effort to secure a Canada style agreement. It would be so much easier if she would just go down that track now.

I remain convinced that there will be no second referendum; there will be no general election. I hope that no leadership battle will be necessary within the Conservative Party; and I remain hopeful that our divorce from Europe can be on civilised and sensible terms of benefit to both halves.

But that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach indicates troublous times to come. If we carry on down the cul –de-sac of the Chequers proposals, then it is hard to see an easy or satisfactory outcome. I hope that the Prime Minister will think again, drop Chequers and seek a Canada ++ arrangement with the EU. If she does not do so the consequences – for the EU, for the UK, and for Mrs May herself could be both unpredictable and very probably pretty dire.

Party Conferences are largely self-regarding, self-glorifying, alcohol fuelled jamborees for lobbyists and journalists. Little of real substance is discussed, the main target being not members of the respective parties, but the drooling vampires of the media, hanging on every split, U-Turn or gaffe. Do you remember the Lib-Dem one? Probably not, apart from poor dear Vince trying to make some smutty joke, but getting his words all mixed up. Talk about a dead parrot.

Labour were all over the place with regard to Brexit, being unclear as to whether or not they favoured a second Referendum, and producing a demonstrable fudge at the end of it. But theirs was nonetheless a pretty slick operation, designed to appeal to the largest number of voters, in the vain hope that they would not look too deeply into what they were being promised, nor how it would all be paid for. It was a real old piece of communism in some respects, but they managed to dress it up so that no one spotted it. A couple of slick Party Political Broadcasts rounded off a bit of a remodelling of Kington St Michael boy, Jeremy Corbyn, into something at least vaguely resembling a PM in waiting. Their uncosted promises will unravel pretty quickly, but for now they had a good week.

I managed to avoid the Tory Conference as I have done for some years now. By the time you read this it will have had wall-to-wall coverage. We can but hope that it’s better than last year’s which was a bit of a PR disaster. The only show in town – and I hope the outcome from the Conference – is the question of how dead the Chequers proposals are. (Just about as dead as the parrot and the Lib-Dems.) I hope that the PM leaves herself enough ‘wriggle-room’ to switch her allegiance to some kind of free-trade deal resembling that agreed by the EU with Canada.

My new book, Full English Brexit, is out this week. Catchy title, don’t you think? It’s about my own views of Brexit, but perhaps more importantly it’s about what I think the UK should look like over the next 50 years. What can we contribute to the world? What will a post-Brexit UK look like? It’s meant to be a light and quite amusing read, and perhaps to stimulate a few lively debates. It’s a highly personal account, and I hope that you may enjoy it. In bookshops near you at £14.99, or direct from the publishers, Halsgrove in Somerset; or if you want a signed copy (at no extra cost) let me know - This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..

I hope we can now put the Conference Season behind us and get back to Parliament and some real hard work – not least, but not limited to, sorting out what really is the best kind of “English Brexit.”