I'm That Old #2

Because I’m both a carer and a volunteer there are kind people trying to get me pushed up the queue for vaccination against this present unpleasantness.

During his telephoned annual review, Ferretfingers’ Enablement Officer commented “As an autistic adult’s carer you’re saving us an absolute fortune, we can’t afford to have you off the squad.”

Early last week one of the ladies at LDNE phoned and asked for my National Health number to put in their paperwork. I put on my glasses, opened the filing cabinet, dug out the file marked “Marriage Lines, Birth/Death Certificates, NHS Numbers” and, much to my surprise found the envelope containing my card almost immediately.

It dated from when I moved to my current GP thirty years ago.

 

I started reading out the number “M for mother” but was interrupted with a startled

“M!  Are you sure that’s not a National Insurance number?”

“Yes.  This is a 1956 National Health number.  I’m that old we’re lucky it doesn’t start with an A.”

 

Thanks to their efforts I am having the jab in a local hospital this afternoon.

I’ll keep you posted if there are any interesting developments (God willing).