As I am barely a week away from my trip I decided that the time had come to make the long walk { spiritually at least } down to my local doctors to get some potentially-life-saving travel vaccinations.
Using the net I was able to get the telephone number and called up to see when the nurse was in the surgery to give the injections and also hopefully book an appointment. As luck would have it, they were in the next day both in the morning and in the afternoon, and so being a fully flexible part-time temp these days it took all of 2 seconds to decide that it was best to get it over and done with and get the all clear from my boss.
Sauntering down to the surgery wasn't a bad thing, as it was only a few minutes from my sisters and the weather was good, but my mood dampened somewhat when I was slipped the news that the nurse wasn't in this morning, but at least she would be in later, say at about 4pm.
Thus it was that for a few hours I made hay while the sun was shining and then at around 4pm, when it just so happened to start lightly raining, I paid my second visit to the house of pain. This time the news was slightly more promising in that, although the nurse was in, as the doctor wasn't that I would have to wait a bit longer.
However when it finally was my time, I spend more time chating with the nurse, { who was a delightfully little old Irish woman with an amazing daughter by all accounts } and deciding which countries I should visit than it took her to actually perform the tiny pinprick and push.
The only downside was the I had to purchase anti-Malaria tablets from the chemist down the road { at £15 per box, and I needed two } and the yellow fever jab has to come with a certificate and you have to go to specialist clinics to get one.
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