Production Line

All masked up to get our Flu jabs this morning.  A golden opportunity for a Saturday blip.
 
It was a regular production line.
 
Check in at the waiting room window, with staff cowering back with their masks on.
 
Queue in a socially distance manor (Mrs W and I together of course) on the path, then called in under the porch where a posse of nurses were ready to jab you three at a socially distance time.
 
Then comes the tricky bit - not “What is your date of birth?” which is bad enough, but “How old are you?”.  After a blank pause “Seventy something I think . . .!” - that was good enough!  I just heard “B******* if I know” coming from Mrs W - that was good enough as well.  Fortunately the nurses know us well.
 
Then out through the other side of the porch and back to the car not touching anything other than the hand sanitiser for the whole episode.




Nothing left now except a slightly aching arm.