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I’d booked in my booster jab for 9.15am, but was wondering if that might have been a mistake as I had to drop the kids off at school first and the school was in the wrong direction. Would I make it on time?
The likelihood became even less when the narrow high street the school is on was blocked by some idiot delivering a skip at 8.30am. I realised it wasn’t going to move in time, so I got the kids out of the car and dashed them the length of the street to get them to school on time. But then I had to get back to the car.
I ran, my achilles tendon is not hurting quite so much now so I could break into a jog, leapt into the car and shot off with the sat nav predicting I’d get there with 3 minutes to spare.
I battled through traffic and got to the vaccination centre at 9.10am. Justice! But there was a bit of a queue for the cars to get in and so I thought I might still be late. An employee came down the line of cars and asked me when my second jab had been. I knew I had the card somewhere, but told it was OK as I’d booked in already. But it turns out there was an issue with the computer system which had allowed people to book in early. She checked my card and told me I was four days short of the six months required and I’d have to come back.
I had Starsky and Hutched this thing and was being turned away. All for the sake of four days. Would that four days really make a difference?
I can go back next week and apparently don’t need an appointment, but what a palaver!
Luckily I had another appointment in town, as I had to go for my blood test ahead of meeting up with my oncologist next week. I am assuming they would have let me know if there had been any issue with my scan last month and I am feeling pretty fit, so hopefully this is all just a formality (and I am not complaining about the regular check ups as it’s a great weight off my mind).
I was in the hospital for 36 minutes, missing out on free parking by 16 minutes. But still a pretty efficient visit.
And as I was in Stevenage I made another trip to the gym (really getting my money’s worth now) and had a swim and a coffee. Though not simultaneously.
I took the kids to drama club after school and did some errands in town. I thought about life being too short and that even if I lived another twenty years, that’s only seven thousand or so days, which doesn’t feel like enough. And I thought it might be a better system if we were given three lives. I wouldn’t mind taking them all as me, but I wouldn’t mind another go or two at this. I don’t want to live forever, but knowing that I’d die and then just pop up again as a baby straight away would be cool. It doesn’t even have to start from 1967 - I could be a baby now. But I am not talking about reincarnation. I want to be me and I want to have a full memory of the life I’ve already lived so that I don’t make the same mistakes again. It’d just take the pressure off. And if you were so inclined you could take some mad risks with one life, knowing there were two (or maybe a maximum of nine) more.
We’d learn something that way and I can’t believe God didn’t come up with this system. Time is running out. Look busy. Seven thousand days, if I’m lucky. It’s basically nothing.
What Dr Spooner did to the gratuity for the man at the entrance to the apartment, with nothing taken away, will give you the name of this week’s messed up LUSH TRIP (without you and I, I hear) guest
