The Shingles Vaccine (Photo Whispyhistory, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0&gt;, via Wikimedia Commons)

Dear Readers, now that I’m 65 I’ve been waiting to be called for my shingles vaccination, and this week, I got the text telling me to head over to Whetstone to get jabbed. I had two elderly relatives who both got shingles in their 80s, and one of them (my aunt Hilary) ended up blinded in one eye by the virus, so I was keen to do what I could not to get it. Plus, people tell me that the pain from the rash is infernal, and certainly the pictures here on the internet are suitably wince-inducing.

I am always so impressed by these mass vaccination programmes – the appointments were at three minute intervals, and the doctor who gave me my jab was so fast that I barely knew it had happened. It reminded me a bit of when everyone was queueing up to get the Covid vaccination – it always feels like the NHS at its very best. Admittedly, I could have done with having my appointment somewhere nearer (it was at the Oakleigh Health Centre which is quite a haul from where I live, especially as we don’t have a car) but it’s a small price to pay.

When I went to bed I realised how sore my arm was (and I have one perfect chickenpox-type blister where the injection was given), plus I feel a bit feverish and headachey, but fortunately I’ve pretty much done the assignment that’s due in tomorrow, so I can go and lay on a chaise longue (or could, if we had one) and persuade my husband to peel me a few grapes (unlikely but I can try!) And tomorrow, once the date for submission of the assignment has passed, I’ll have a chat about the results of my doughball experiments. So much excitement!