It was a bit like a Summer Fete down at the Doctor's Surgery this morning. There was colourful bunting, decking the walls; there were "meeters and greeters", welcoming us in; there were happy people waiting, with
smiling faces, to give us a treat, something for nothing....
We were allocated to the "Green Room". What fun we were going to have! "Just step inside," said the cheerful nurse, looking over
her tray of delights: "I'll need your right arm - have you ever had a Flu Jab before?" Ah, yes, that was the reason we were there, Mr B and I. I'd almost forgotten in all the excitement...
I really couldn't fault the sales job. No wonder there were 1000 of us, apparently, visiting the surgery this morning - with more Special Weekend Visit-Your-Surgery-For-An- Exciting-Prick-In-Your-Arm-Which-Might-Just-Stop-You-Getting-The-Flu-This-Winter
to come over the next few Saturdays.
I picked up a helpful leaflet entitled "Flu Dunnit" on the front of which were portrayed "The FLUsual Suspects." There was a pale blue bug, carrying an inhaler
(he's the nasty one who attacks the asthmatics); an elderly Mr Potato Head type with specs and a walking stick, who lies in wait to catch the older generation; a heart-shaped one, who preys on those with cardiovascular problems; a green one with a sugar lump
on his tongue (presumably the one who targets diabetics?) and a clearly pregnant pink bug. Clever, eh? Hats off to a company called Abbott who provided both leaflets and bunting and almost fooled Mr B and me into thinking we were
having a "Jolly Outing."
It was a completely different story when we went to the Travel Clinic to have the necessary jabs before a holiday to Turkey. We were both due to have at least three
jabs each but Mr B, the jammy devil, turned out to have natural immunity and escaped with only one. I, on the other hand, had to make two return trips. Mr B was not as sympathetic as he should have been, being far more excited in relating
tall tales about childhood illnesses when he must surely have diced with death before making a miraculous recovery and, at the same time, acquring his magic (sorry, natural) immunity.
By my third
trip to the Travel Clinic, my right arm ached so much that I asked the nurse if she could possibly use my left arm for my final jab. She looked at me with what can only be described as a look of evil merriment in her eye: "Oh, dear, me no!" she exclaimed,
cheerfully, "This is a BUM job!"