Most of our struggles are mundane, a steady shovelling to clear a path while snow falls from a lowering sky; neither our contract nor our humanity requires us to strap on armour and march, spear in hand, into the lair of some fanged and hairy terror to do battle. There is still a quiet heroism, though, in shovelling, especially as the light starts to fail and wolves roam. Looking after people in general practice often requires a certain heroism too, as paperwork silently accumulates, the list of urgent extras grows, and the risk of a missed diagnosis or complaint bares its teeth. How we understand our story makes a difference to how we go about the job, how effectively we do it, and how it leaves us feeling when we go home. Although the total number of stories must be infinite, most recapitulate a small number of underlying narrative structures and themes, familiar tunes played in a variety of styles. One of these proto-narratives …