We had our Covid booster jags the other day. It was down at the Assembly Rooms, and ran like a military operation—unsurprisingly, as several army medics were taking part (dressed in desert camouflage, which I can’t help feeling isn’t going to help them much if a foreign power decides to invade the far north of Scotland—a country not, to my knowledge, noted for its hot, sandy terrain). As I stood in line to get in some people happened past across the street, and a lady ahead of me in the queue, who obviously knew them, shouted out a greeting and asked if they’d had their jags already. They said that was the case and, clearly uncomfortable to be accosted in so public a manner, started to move on. Whereupon she called after them (to much hilarity), “Aye, rank has its privileges, right enough!”
Late afternoon on the path
Inside the hall I was met by a nurse with an iPad and a list of questions. I was rather nonplussed to be asked, “And what can we do for you today?”, but it turned out they were offering a flu jab as well the booster, presumably on the ‘buy one get one free’ principle. Well, in for a penny, I thought, and was directed to a table where another nurse was waiting. I duly got the flu shot in one arm, the Covid one in another, and then I was directed to the seating area to wait fifteen minutes before I could leave. Here I was amused to observe that most people after about five minutes realised that (a) just sitting around in case bad things happened is very boring, and (b) no one was actually watching, and so they furtively snuck out whenever the nurses were otherwise engaged. I shook my head at their folly… until I too got bored after five minutes and sheepishly followed them outside.
Lichen & Haws
Meanwhile, the back of the denim gansey is finished, and I’m onto the front. It’s zipping right along, and obviously the secret of fast knitting is to aim for the more svelte type of figure. It’s going to be a seven-and-three-quarter-inch armhole, though these things are always something of a lottery. And what a great colour denim is: it’s no wonder so many people choose it. Next week I should have the front finished, hopefully even the collar.
The Lighthouse, reflected
Speaking of svelte figures (or not), as I’d stripped for action back in the hall the nurse had cheerfully regaled me with anecdotes of the various men who’d passed through her hands earlier that day—specifically, how long they could hold their breath and their dignity and keep their waists sucked in until gravity inevitably reasserted itself. This turned out on average to be for the duration of one jab but not both (“like a bouncy castle deflating” was how she described one poor chap who’d had to let it all hang out). No man is a hero to his valet, as the saying goes; neither apparently is he to his nurse…
I bet they have a pool for longest-held-in versus fastest-let-out abdomen. The gansey looks as though it had to let loose. (Though I don’t quite see how holding breath has anything to do with it. The muscles can be tightened without having to stop breathing.)
Only five minutes? We had to wait fifteen minutes. Compose a letter to the editor or something.
Hi Tamar, luckily I don’t have any sort of self-delusion when it comes to my physique – as Stephen Fry so memorably put it, some people treat their body like a temple, mine is more like a bin bag filled with yoghurt…