Number eight

I've decided it's a dead giveaway for age when you realise that you're onto your eighth Covid vaccination, and that's exactly where we are. First I had to get the messages, so I was actually in the shop just after 8am and out again at 9am. They have fewer stacked shelves at that time - they're scampering around with these massive trolleys so I was jinking in and out to get round them. But it meant I had time to eat breakfast and clear up before we headed up to the Community Hospital for our jags.

I thought the view from the hospital made a nice contrast with what you tend to see from the big Glasgow hospitals; I took all three photos in the collage as we walked up from the overflow car park and along the front of the building. The building with the red doors down on the main road out of town is the Fire Station, and the hills beyond are once more the target of a wind farm developer. The hospital's not what it was when I spent a week there after giving birth to #2 son - A&E has moved to what was Maternity, and several of the wards are empty or used for days like today, when I was actually in a bit of the hospital I've never been in, across an elevated covered walkway in the former Medicine for the Elderly. We took longer getting there from the front door than we actually spent in the ward - it was a case of in and out again, with a nippy wee jag in between and a quick hello to our neighbours, who appeared just after us. 

After that it was home for coffee and a sneaky wee chocolate biscuit, followed by my Italian lesson and the realisation that I had to write Intercessions for Sunday, so I managed to get this done before lunch. By now the sky had clouded over, annoyingly, but we still thought we'd get in a walk before we felt too many jag effects. We found that the wind had dropped considerably and had a pleasantly unambitious walk at Toward admiring the clarity of the Arran hills above a shining, steel-grey sea. We could see showers falling on Ayrshire and down the Firth, but none fell on us. The clouds cleared again, making way for the extremely chilly night they're promising us.

And yes, we've both felt progressively more hellish as the evening has gone on - aching muscles and a slight headache, along with the general malaise that makes you wonder how you'll end up if you have it out of the blue. But because I know what's causing it, I'll just pop down a couple of Paracetamol and go to bed ... now.