It is not every day that we look forward to having a sore arm. But the time has come. Hurrah!
Outside the cottage hospital, the queue is a long one. It snakes back along the path and round the hedge. And it is only ten past nine.
I wait patiently in line. Because a covid booster is not to be missed.
The queue goes down and it is administered quickly and efficiently. Then our NHS workers are old hands at this.
By now our health workers must have doled out many millions of injections.
Wonderful workers
And it is not just hospital workers who have been keeping us safe. My first jab was delivered by a podiatrist whilst the chiefs was given by a dentist.
This time it is a nurse who does the heroic deed. She tells me that she and her colleagues will manage several hundred over the next few hours.
Meanwhile, later that day it is a soldier who deals with my mother’s booster.
Mum has her appointment at the main hospital. Where a good-looking man in army combat uniform takes charge of the situation.
‘Now young lady’ he says, ‘which arm do you reckon for the needle?’
By now my mother is giggly. She has already told him that her two sons are both medics. One is a surgeon. The other is an anaesthetist. Then she tells anyone and everyone that.
Proud as punch
She talks with pride about her offspring, and she is enjoying the banter. Going on for ninety-three it is a while since she was called a young lady.
Our serviceman listens and explains that he is a medic with the Royal Corps of Signals.
His arrival from England, along with the rest of his team, has taken the weight off our hospital staff and they are grateful.
One of the nurses lets slip that when the boys leave, the plan is to send them off with shortbread and other Scottish delicacies.
Indeed, it may be that whisky might play a part in the proceedings. Who knows?
But it is a good day out for mum. One marred only by the fact that when asked about her ethnicity she can either opt for being ‘Scottish’, or ‘Other British.’
‘I’m not Other British. I live in Scotland, but I was born in England,’ she insists. However, there is no English box to tick.
Travelling chief
And so, we are now fully vaccinated. Apart from the chief who has been on his travels.
The MacGregor has been on a photographic trip. He has been capturing African sunsets and soaking up the sun.
I have missed him. The MacNaughties, meanwhile, have not.
Or at least they do not appear to have pined to any great extent. Happy to be walked and fed by someone other than dad.
It is a simple case of cupboard love. But when he returns – as he will do very soon – he can do the dawn dog duty again.
And I can stay in bed a wee bit longer…
