Been there, done that – have the sticker to prove it

Going for our jabs was actually a bit like attending a Santa’s Grotto for grown-ups. But the “elves” were all masked, we didn’t get to sit on anyone’s lap and our only gift was The Needle.

 

We arrived at the pharmacy ridiculously early, determined to make the most of our outing. After a half an hour’s wait in the car we trotted along to the shop where we were greeted by a “vaccine marshal” in a high-viz jacket. “Here for the vaccine?” “Yep”. We waved our NHS letters smugly – we’d been told we would need to bring these along. But the marshal ignored them and asked instead: “Do you have your NHS booking references?” Luckily these were on our phones, but they might not have been. However, this was the only part of the operation that wasn’t supremely slick and efficient.

 

We were then ushered through to the first room of the “grotto” where our details were checked (name, address, date of birth, allergies). Once we’d been deemed fit for jabbing we were shuffled along in the socially-distanced queue and were engaged in conversation by another vaccine marshal, who complained to us about the many, many patients who hilariously asked for a lollipop after their vaccination. Then my name was called and I stepped into the treatment room to meet “Santa”. I’m not a big fan of injections – is anyone? – and the worst thing about them is usually the build-up. But there’s no time for any of that malarkey during a worldwide vaccination programme and it was all over before I could even tell her what I wanted for Christmas.

 

I was then given a sticker bearing the words: “I’ve had my COVID vaccination”. Really? What was it for - to make me feel better about the lollipop deficiency? Or to use by way of a “vaccine passport”? As far as I’m concerned it was completely pointless, and the sticker fund would have been better redirected towards the nurses’ pay-packets. But hey ho. 

 

As for side-effects, we had no idea what to expect since our friends had experienced everything from diarrhoea and nausea to throbbing arms and flu-like symptoms. In our case, Brian and I woke up on Saturday morning feeling tired, listless and tot6ally lacking in energy. So we spent the day slumped in front of the telly watching films and eating takeaway pizza. Nothing at all to do with our “pub night” visit on Friday, I’m certain.

 

We’re now both as right as rain and have a new level of protection against a killer disease. And we’ve had a pleasantly lazy weekend – with pizza. What’s not to like?