Father's Day heroism

We don’t make as much of a fuss about Father’s Day as we do about Mother’s Day.

Mainly because, unlike me, Nigel is not willing to sulk or throw full-scale tantrums.  He also fails to start signalling Father’s Day six weeks in advance as I do for Mother’s Day.  And the little hints about an outing are altogether absent.

What an amateur!  It’s almost like he expects somebody else to arrange it all for him.

This Father’s Day, Carenza organised a gift from all the offspring – an ‘oscillating hoe’ for the garden.  It took longer to unwrap it than it did to weed the entire veg patch with it.  What a find!  My garden gnomes looked on, hiding their admiration only with difficulty.

Pascoe sent one of his very creative cards (see below) this time made from an apple.

But on Father’s Day itself, Pascoe was in Edinburgh and Carenza in Cornwall, so it was on Perran’s shoulders that the task of celebrating fell.

He arrived early as we were coming back from church.  But when we hugged him, he winced.  I made us a pot of coffee and asked Perran for his news, but he wasn’t quite himself. 

He had been vaccinated only the day before, had a very sore arm and was under the weather.

However, he brightened our Sunday for several hours, joining us for lunch and recounting his and Carenza’s recent flat move.  Eventually we packed him off home to recuperate.

But he is definitely our Father’s Day hero.

Vaccination II

 

For me, today is vaccination day.

Unlike Nigel, my first opportunity to book was via the NHS website and the jab would be delivered at a local pharmacy rather than the louche nightclub surrounds of Batchwood.

A pity – I’d been looking forward to the vaccination-with-glitterball experience.

However, that was a minor detail.  The main thing was to get jabbed, especially as the news this morning mentioned that the vaccination rate was slowing.

All my friends who’d been ‘done’ have said how efficient it was, so I wasn’t anticipating any problems. As an afterthought I stuffed my letter of invitation in my pocket in case I was asked for my NHS number.

When I arrived, many stewards were in view, wearing high vis or toting clipboards, but as far as I could see, I was the only actual punter.

When I said my name, two young women both got me to repeat it, then to spell it. They flicked rapidly through their lists.  I wasn’t there.  My appointment had somehow not registered.   It felt just like a bad dream.  Had I missed the boat?

Panicking I got my letter out and flapped it, wishing now I had also brought the print-out of my appointments. 

Given that I had my letter and that nobody else was waiting, it was decided to give me my jab.  Oxford Astra Zeneca, thank you very much!

One of the staff confided there had been a few cases like mine.

I feel very fortunate to have been vaccinated and only hope that moment of having the rug pulled doesn’t come back as a recurring nightmare.

Vaccination 1

 

The roadmap out of Lockdown had two opposite effects on me.  I foresaw with delight the prospect of having family and friends round to our garden.  On the other hand, I was apprehensive at the possibility of catching Covid, or worse, of Nigel catching Covid.

Most of our friends have made a good recovery, but just a very few had to be hospitalised or have Long Covid.  It’s a bit of a Forrest Gump/ box of chocolates situation – you never know what you’re going to get. 

I doubted the vaccination programme would reach us any time soon because just as our cohort became eligible, many older people also needed their second jab.

So when Nigel got his invitation we were thrilled. 

Incongruously, our extremely efficient GP-led vaccination centre is Batchwood, usually a nightclub.  Our children have many times boogied the night away there, but did they ever feel as happy as Nigel did when he received his jab and took a selfie under the giant chandelier?

Then two days later, I received an invitation to book my shot.  It felt like a privilege.  Sometimes things do go right after all.

And I can also refute the conspiracy theory that the vaccine contains microchips – although I have tried very hard this week to reprogramme Nigel, he is still doing exactly as he pleases 😊