Martin Hesp on Saturday

Getting the needle – an occasion to savour

AT last! A social occasion. The biggest, best and, actually, the only one I’ve enjoyed since way before Christmas! And a particularly pleasant social occasion, because it was a moment of celebration for everyone involved…

I am talking about going to get the Covid jab. What other social occasions are there nowadays?

If you were raised in the same area where you now live in your 60s, you are almost bound to see people you know at the local vaccination centre. That happened to me and, among several be-masked waves and hellos, I had a pleasant chat with my pal Michelle - a French lady I’ve known for 45 years - while sitting two metres apart in the post-jab waiting room.

We were in the foyer of Minehead Hospital alongside a couple of dozen other post-jabees, and I needed it to be jolly because we were chatting directly beneath the room where my mum died just a few months ago.

A lot of people have lost loved ones over the past year - and I reckon grieving during a lockdown is a different experience from mourning during normal times. The sadness is more intense because you’ve got a lot more time to think about the person you lost and about how much you miss them.

On the other hand, some might argue you’ve got more time to grieve properly because you are not belting about the place like a headless chicken, which is what so many of us do in normal times.

I find this interesting because I lost my dad five years ago at a time when I was particularly busy emulating a headless chicken. If truth be known, I was closer to my dad. He was my mentor and, actually, my lifelong hero. Writing those words has brought tears to my eyes. And yet I’ve felt the hurt of losing lovely old mum more. I can only put that down to the way in which I’ve been living. A month after dad died I was in some exotic jungle on a press trip. In three months since mum died, I’ve hardly stepped foot out of the valley.

Sorry if all this is a bit me, me, meish - but I mention it because there must be so many people experiencing similar feelings.

However, one thing that keeps all our minds busy is the news. We’re all desperate to see the latest “roadmap out of lockdown” and so on. But do you ever find yourself thinking the headlines pose more questions than answers?

Covid has thrown up many a conundrum because we’re all living in a new era. Even the experts. But sometimes I wonder if my “countrybumpkin” status prevents me from a thorough understanding of the modern world,

For example, this week bulletins have been dominated by concerns that there’ll be holes in the UK vaccination rollout because poorer areas will see fewer people having the jab. This is a worry. But even as an avid Radio Four listener where they go in for lengthy explanations, I have not heard any comprehensive reasoning as to why poorer areas miss out. The vaccine is free, so why are the poor less likely to have a needle in the arm?

I understand some homeless people might fall through the net. There’s also talk of some from ethnic minorities - who might live in more deprived areas - refusing to be vaccinated. It is often mentioned but I’ve not heard any detailed information on this. I’ve seen pictures of vaccine centres in places like mosques, so find it hard to believe any religion is actively dissuading worshippers from taking the needle.

Google the question and American websites will tell you about poor people facing two hour bus rides to the nearest vaccination site. Surely that’s not applicable in the overcrowded UK? US commentators talk about people not realising the jab is free. No surprise in a country where healthcare costs a fortune, but it can’t be the case here.

Perhaps the thinking is that the poor are more gullible when it comes to crazy online conspiracy theories? Maybe the unspoken suggestion is that the low waged or unemployed are less educated and so don’t realise the importance of vaccines?

I hope no-one is intimating such things, but I don’t know.

Here’s another Covid issue doing the rounds. It is the theory that the Pfizer jab is superior to the Oxford/ AstraZeneca. I had the Pfizer, and several people messaged me on social media saying: “Lucky you! That’s the good one. The Government only rolled out the Oxford jab as an emergency measure so it could claim it was ahead of the rest of the world. Other countries won’t have it!” This is rubbish. But that is what people are saying - and I know at least one 70-plus year-old who is now genuinely alarmed and depressed that she’s not properly protected.

You can see why politicians and governments employ spin-doctors. Often it’s not so much the story that matters - it is how it’s told. And the narrative surrounding the ebbs, flows and seething tides of Covid must be a nightmare to negotiate. Not that I was worrying a jot about any of it while getting the jab at my only social occasion so far this winter.

I needed it to be jolly because we were chatting directly below the room where my mum died