It’s that time of year when vaccination against the expected bout of winter flu becomes available. We received text messages some weeks ago reminding us to make appointments and, of course, we did so.

Before the pandemic turned the world upside down, we would share an appointment at our GP surgery and go in together. This year, for whatever reason, this was not allowed and we had an appointment each, 45 minutes apart.

Red berries
Photo by Tigger

Mine was first and I toddled down to the surgery, not sure how things would be organised. First, there was a queue for admission but as vaccination takes hardly any time at all, this filtered through quite quickly.

Once through the door, I was met by a nurse who had me sanitise my hands and then sent me to the reception desk to check in. The desk used to be open above counter level but is now enclosed with transparent screens with small rectangular apertures for passing things to and fro – a sign of the times.

The receptionist couldn’t find me on her list and started searching the records. In the event, it didn’t matter because the “needle nurse” became free at that point and I was sent straightaway to her.

Spider building a web
Photo by Tiger

The waiting room had been emptied of all seating and one corner had been screened off as the vaccination centre. A nurse was ready and waiting, like the spider waiting for the fly. In I went.

I had taken the precaution of dressing in such a way as to be able to bare my arm quickly and without completely removing any garments.

“Have you had a flu vaccination before?” I was asked.

Oh yes, many times. I presented my now bare arm and in seconds the job was done.

“Go to the door at the back,” someone instructed me, “and wait for Nichola to call you.”

This intrigued me because the job was done so why would anyone need to call me?

Berries and leaves
Photo by Tigger

I sorted out my clothing and did up my coat, looking around and wondering which of the hurrying people was the fabled Nichola.

“Are you ready?” asked a voice behind my left shoulder.

“Er, yes,” said I, turning to discover who had spoken. Apparently it was Nichola, who had been patiently waiting, unnoticed by me, while I dressed myself in leisurely fashion.

Her job, it turned out, was to conduct me through the corridors to the back door from which I was evacuated back into the outside world, thus avoiding contact with incoming patients.

Then it was Tigger’s turn. I accompanied her to the surgery, joined the queue with her and left when she went in.

We had agreed that I would go to Myddelton’s deli, buy coffee and sit at one of the outdoor tables until Tigger could join me. However, knowing from my own experience how quickly they were working, I deliberately dawdled.

It turned out that I was right because I had not gone very far before I received a text from Tigger saying she was out and on her way. I retraced my steps to meet her.

Together, we went to Myddelton’s where we drank coffee, sitting at a table on the pavement and comparing notes on our respective experiences.

Autumn trees in Friend Street

The pictures of course have nothing to do with the narrative but have been included for decoration. We took them as we went about this morning.