The NHS is criticised almost every day, frequently for its management style and sometimes for its financial blunders but rarely for its clinical care.

I have worked in the NHS system for many years and know its faults at close quarters but I wasn't so closely acquainted with its consistent high standard of routine care until I recently found myself on a hospital trolley, looking up at the hideous ceiling tiles and glaring lights in the otherwise depressing corridors.

Without warning, I found myself in considerable chest pain, at home in bed, early morning. Take note. I was convinced it was indigestion and nothing more.

Fortunately, my wonderful partner thought differently and called the paramedics. Oxygenated and bundled into the back of an ambulance, I was in casualty at the Royal Sussex minutes later. Even at this time I was in glorious ignorance of the potential seriousness of my condition.

As luck would have it, I had met the consultant cardiologist previously because my GP was astute enough to refer me for a 24-hour trace when she detected the occasional missed heart beat.

I also knew the registrar, a former colleague from Kings College Hospital, and I have enormous respect for her clinical skills. However busy, she always seems to find time to talk about exactly what the patient really wants to know. I was very glad she was there to tell me exactly what I needed to hear.

Bright and early next morning, I found myself watching a cardiac catheter penetrating my coronary arteries on a TV monitor and the consultant talking me through his interpretation of the pictures.

I was distinctly relieved I was not about to have my chest surgically unzipped for bypass surgery and, after a short recovery period, I was informed I could go home that day.

Within hours of arriving home, I was contacted by one of the cardiac nurses and asked if I would like to attend six weeks twice-weekly for cardiac rehabilitation.

I first attended an assessment session with a physiotherapist. What followed was a revelation.

The classes were conducted by a team of physiotherapists and everyone of them was absolutely brilliant. Some NHS staff (me included) used to think of physiotherapists as the spoilt elite of the medical back-up professions. They always seemed to come from well-to-do families with private boarding school education and did little real work - a bit toffee-nosed and stand-offish. But none of this team was the least bit like that.

My six weeks of classes were invaluable. I met one patient who turned out to be exceedingly good company but then, like me, he was a German Shepherd owner so there was a natural affinity and common subject to discuss at length.

The object of this letter is to say if you have a heart attack or need heart surgery choose the Royal Sussex Hospital in Brighton. You cannot go wrong. This is one place in which the NHS has excelled itself and customer service is at its most excellent.

In such a large organisation there are many opportunities to pick holes in the care offered but I am delighted with and grateful for the efficiency and expertise of everybody involved, the paramedics, emergency staff, cardiac nurses and physiotherapists.

The only thing there is to say to the consultant and doctors is thank you - I am alive.

-Name and address supplied