I’m lucky to have gift of the jab

AT FIRST I thought it was a hoax, or one of those Covid scams when some devious con man gets your bank details by pretending to offer you a test or vaccination.

But it wasn’t.When my phone pinged on Monday with a text inviting me for my Covid jab at a local GP surgery, it was the real deal.

The reason I was astonished was because (ha ha) I’m so young! I’m only 72 dear reader, and so thought I’d be on the waiting list until next month at least.And I was cynical about even that. I’ve not got a lot of faith in dear old Matt Hancock, below, so when he and Boris announced this week that they were starting on the over-70s I just thought, “Oh yeah?”

But blow me, the call came right away and so onWednesday morning off I went to an immaculately-organised surgery a couple of miles down the road, where I was greeted by several cheerful young volunteers, swiftly jabbed and after a 15-minute rest to make sure I didn’t collapse in shock (the jocular man next to me asked for tea and biscuits), it was all over and I was back home with a sense that I’d been part of history.

I did think long and hard if I should write about this, because I feel exceptionally lucky and a bit guilty. Not all the over-80s have been vaccinated yet, so why me? But I couldn’t turn it down.

Nothing’s perfect though. I had the Pfizer vaccine and today debate rages about how effective it is if the second dose is delayed according to Government decree.

The second jab should be three to four weeks after the first but in the UK it will be 12 weeks so more can receive just one dose. Some scientists say this amounts to an “uncontrolled population experiment”, encouraging mutant new strains to develop. A time bomb in other words.

But then, hey, I’ve had my first jab.As Richard said, on January 20 one small prick entered my arm as a gigantic one left the White House.

I KEEP saying I won’t watch the news again since all it does is make me feel even more depressed than I already am.

Endless awful reports from intensive care units, close-up head shots of seriously ill patients, desperate doctors and tearful nurses. It’s just too much to take.

So now we have a petty revenge. Every night at the end of the ITV Evening News bulletin, the otherwise lovely Mary Nightingale smiles sweetly and says: “Stay home.” To which we both yell: “No – YOU stay home!”

Childish and pathetic, but so very satisfying.