Huge thanks to the Holm View crew for jabbing me up in a valiant vaccination process that was smooth, seamless, and so well-sorted it would put any deftly-run doctors surgery to shame…and then some.
Ate my words on that one. Stood outside Centre, a quick call in, fast flash of the old ID, answer of a few, fair questions, matter of minutes waiting and then needle time. A breezy blonde nurse in Booth Nine did me – it was great.
In fact, I was so expecting the usual dreary delays, I firmly told the teenage son waiting in the car to please be patient and not to be phoning me every flippin’ five minutes if I was in there for hours – or words to that effect anyway.
But I must have been a total of just over ten minutes from, slightly nervously, stepping through door to the obligatory card-carrying, smiling social media selfie post prick.
Thank you Cardiff and Vale Health Board, thank you NHS, thank you Astra Zeneca, thank you science – it is absolutely appreciated.
Luckily, I also managed to swiftly side step any strange side effects or cop a mild dose of the ‘Rona as reported by some. I didn’t even have an achy arm or a big bruise to show off my war wound. I am grateful for that too.
I’m not going to lie to you though, I did feel like I’d be belted by a bus the next morning, and was seriously shattered for twenty-four hours. Mind you, it was nothing a hot bath, a dab of talc, a rare early night and a luscious lie-in couldn’t sharply sort.
Follow that with the lovely, long, Easter Weekend full of sunshine and smiles and I’m back to being fighting fit, fabulously fine, and wistfully waiting for that second Covid-19 call up to land on my leopard-print door mat.
Bring it on ‘Rona jab round two please – I’m like coiled spring here.
Seriously though, I’ve long been a active advocate of our clever Covid-19 vaccination programme – whatever flavour you are offered on the day.
For me, this vaccination victory, is a total triumph for science, an awesome opportunity to put the pandemic in its place.
I was normal once, worst five minutes of my life, so I think I’ll just the can the cliche and stress that, in my view, the jab jump-starts a real return to those freedoms we had so heart-breakingly taken away.
I’m still on last nerve with this queer quarantine. I’m fed up of cooking exotic cuisine, green-fingering the garden, sprucing up the Sanctuary, blitzing box sets, and shouting at my son.
All of which I’ve waxed lyrical about in my Corona Virus Diary which I thought would be three weeks work not a weighty tome of twelve months and more’s musings whilst stuck in my study.
But if this rapid rollout of the vaccination programme is bringing us closer to the lives we lived before, I’m its most enthusiastic supporter.
Of course, until then, I’m firmly following the rules rigidly, religiously repeating the hands, face, space palaver, and even perfectly planning my outfits to match my mask.
For me, a slow, steady, and safe move out of this queer quarantine is the only way to play if we are to leave this Lockdown as the last we ever endure.
Truth be told, it has been bloody brutal at times. I’ve so missed my strong social connections, felt the pain of a restricted family funeral, been laid so low by the travel bans, and struggled to keep a teenage son schooled, to name but a few challenges on the coronacoaster.
So, let’s stick with the social-distancing, stay slapping on the sanitizer, mask up whenever we meet.
And all form an orderly queue at Holm View vaccination centre as we find our way back to freedom.
Pass me my pandemic Passport please – I’m out of here.
Taxi for Jones!
Sue Vincent-Jones, writing as Mrs SVJ, is a Barry born journalist, editor, and communications specialist. She blogs about Barry – and her life in the wider world, through the eyes of a, quirky and queer, local girl done good.
My Corona Virus Diary is where Sue gives her view on this pandemic palaver – the long lingering Lockdown, our queer quarantine, the isolation nation, and how our town took to these crazy Covid-19 times.