The last time I registered for anything was my Covid jab, the vaccination that we were all waiting for. You have to be registered here, otherwise no registration, no vaccination. It was not so easy, as officially I was a year too young (at 74?) for a jab, but after a short call to my neurologist within a few minutes I hadthe necessary document to qualify. I registered with the authorities and then the waiting began. They did not have enough vaccinations available. In the meanwhile my Mr. Swiss, who is eight years older than I, also registered. Eventually I got a date for a jab, and so did he and his was a few days earlier than mine. I then realised that it was fashion to now be on the list, everyone was talking about it. If you were old and had no date you felt left out, ignored, not wanted. It was really depressing.

When I arrived at the vaccination center it all looked very official and, of course, you had to have your mask. Otherwise you did not belong. The desk above is the exit desk. After the jabs were done you had to wait 15 minutes before leaving and then you could only go if you told the guys you were leaving. They then struck your name from the list – until the next time for the second jab.

I now have it all behind me, Mr. Swiss as well, until the next time. Today I heard that the Brits are considering a third jab to be sure. I think we will be jabbing for the next ten years.