Boaster Jab

I’ve had my booster jab now. Not that I’m going to boast about it: I leave all that to the just-about Prime Minister. (Great joke on Dead Ringers: We now go to the Prime Minister Boris Johnson – unless you’re listening to the repeat). No, if I boast, let it be in the NHS that made all this possible. Mind you, it was a bit of a palaver: I turned up at the main entrance and asked for the Grace Dieu ward (named after a local abbey). I was wearing a mask of course so the receptionist didn’t hear properly. ‘The Breast Care centre? Yes of course…’ and she was half way through the directions before I stopped her and repeated my request. ‘For a booster jab, ‘ I clarified. ‘Oh, the Grays Dew ward? Yes, it’s round the back.’ Hopefully under my mask she couldn’t see me grimacing at the pronunciation. I went round and round until it seemed impossible that there could be any more back left, and still I wasn’t there. I stopped in a car park and some freshly vaccinated folk took pity on me. ‘It’s round the back!’ they said.

I got there in the end. A very nice soldier took my details: I’d heard the army were helping out but it was the first time I’d seen any. Finally I got the jab and having come nearly 9/10 of the way round the hospital, found a rather muddy short cut back to my car.

I’m a little tired this afternoon but no other ill effects. It’s a real boost…

Kirk out