Needles and pins...

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I had my flu jab last week.

I probably don't fit into the usual criteria of vaccine invitees, but as I am asthmatic, it's a sensible precaution, and I have been having the annual jab for the last ten years with great success.  Having had a bout of real bona fide flu (none of this man flu nonsense) about twenty years ago, I will do anything to avoid a repeat of that twelve days of hell. Mind you, the twenty pound weight loss was a bit of a silver lining, but even that wouldn't make me want to get it again.

Sitting in the waiting area outside the nurse's surgery for my 4.53pm appointment (they are very precise at my surgery) I was joined by an elderly lady and gentleman.  We all made the appropriate small talk, eventually settling down to a copy of Best (the lady), Sailing Today (the chap, although what use that is in the Home Counties is beyond me) and my phone (playing crib is my new favourite time waster).

Then the door opened.

'Mrs Green?'

Off shuffled the lady, tucking the well thumbed copy of Best into her cavernous handbag as she walked into the surgery. (bet that didn't make it back to the magazine rack).  Two minutes later, she was on her way home, and the gentleman and I looked at each other wondering who was going to be next.

The door opened again...

'Sophie?'  This was directed at me, and I shook my head.  'No, sorry', (why the need to apologise for heaven's sake).

'Are you sure?  It says that Sophie is my next patient'.

''No, I'm definitely not Sophie', I said.

The nurse then looked at Captain Pugwash next to me in his tweed cap and brogues.

'I'm not Sophie either', he said, 'but if helps me to get this blasted injection done any quicker, I'm more than happy for you to call me Sophie for the next two minutes'.

How we laughed...

As it was, I got to go in before the Captain did, and I rolled up my sleeve in preparation.  'Ready for a little prick?' she asked (there are many, many answers that I could have given, but I settled for a 'yes', and in the needle went.  Turns out that I was her first 'bleeder' for the day, and I left her room with a large wad of cotton wool under my sweater to stem the flow.  

Talking of the red stuff, the blood donor people called me on Saturday to see whether I would re-book a cancelled appointment.  'I'm happy to rebook, but I got bitten by a dog so was told I would have to wait a few months'.  At the word 'bitten', she stopped talking and said that before she booked me in again, she needed to ask me some questions.

'Where were you bitten?'  Well apparently, 'on the arm' wasn't the information she was after, so after a bit of to-ing and fro-ing, we ascertained that it happened in the UK.

'Were you bitten by a monkey?'

Big sigh...

Which part of 'bitten by a dog' confused you.....

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