I’m sick of being injected, as being injected makes me sick. The actual process of needle entering arm isn’t so bad, it’s the 24 hours that follow it. It doesn’t help if your nurse at the travel clinic jabs you up like she’s playing angry darts after a few too many pints. She’s a friendly woman, and I have no reason to doubt her medical knowledge, but she possesses a fidgety manic energy that seems entirely at odds with a job that relies heavily on the use of hypodermic needles.
Vaccinations are designed to stimulate your immune response to a particular type of invasion. Thus, a typhoid vaccine is essentially a non-fatal dose of typhoid such that your immune system can learn to deal with it in advance of getting a higher dose later on. It’s the immunological equivalent of having a wank before you go on a date. I’m five jabs down with three to go.
Me and Guy begin an ambitious recording project next weekend, and I’ve been playing scales and blowing the dust off my music equipment in preparation. I checked that everything still worked by recording this ditty that’s been going round my head all week. It would seem to suggest I have a long career of writing music for building society adverts ahead of me. Enjoy.