Views from the Reading Room

I had my first COVID-19 jab today: the AstraZeneca one, at the pharmacy round the block from my doctor's surgery (there's actually a connecting door, but it's not in use right now for the obvious reason). I thought I'd have to wait a while before leaving, but I guess that's just for the Pfizer one.

I got the letter from the NHS inviting me to make an appointment on my birthday, which might not be a coincidence as that's when I became qualified (at some point since printing the info-booklet, they've changed that line from 65 AND OVER to 64 AND OVER).

I haven't noticed any side-effects so far. On the way home, I fancied the injection site was sore, but that could have been my imagination: I expect it to be sore when someone sticks a needle in me!

Update: I spoke too soon about the side-effects. They hit me when I went to bed, and I had a bad night with a sore arm, headache and various other things that came and went. I still have the headache and some joint pain. I should have checked the date on the paracetamol in the house and got some more while I had the chance - I think Expired 2019 is too long ago to risk it.

Meme via chagrined and alias_sqbr.

At 33:
I lived in: a mid-terrace house within walking distance of the town centre. I'd moved in at the beginning of the year, from rented accommodation, after getting a job that paid enough to get a mortgage. I barely knew any of the neighbours.

I drove: nothing. Nobody taught working-class girls to drive when I wor a lass! [when I was young in the North]

I was in a relationship with: no-one. I called myself celibate, because I didn't have the vocabulary I have now.

I feared: I don't remember. Probably big things like nuclear war and environmental disasters.

I worked at: a small software house a (longish, but straightforward) bus journey away, as a computer programmer, maintaining and developing financial management systems for the construction industry.

I wanted to be: the same, but better paid with a shorter commute and fewer annoying colleagues! Working part-time for an equivalent rate would also have been excellent, as I was definitely shorter of time than of cash.

At 58:
I live in: the same house. I've had some work done on it and I paid off the mortgage the first time I was made redundant. I still know very few of the neighbours; most of them are (comparatively) new.

I drive: still nothing. The jobcentre's "removing barriers to employment" doesn't stretch to paying for driving lessons.

I am in a relationship with: no-one. I now identify as aromantic (a word I'd never encountered until I met the internet) and asexual (which, back in the day, I only knew as the term for critters that reproduce by splitting).

I fear: Nothing? I worry about things - on a global level, mostly climate change; on a personal level, mostly cashflow.

I work at: housework (not as much as I should) and looking for work (same?). I've been unemployed since I was made redundant the second time, and have pretty much given up on ever getting another job. The most important thing I'm doing, actually ... mainly consists of waiting, because my financial advisor apparently doesn't want to issue progress reports until he's done All Of The Research, and is waiting in his turn for the company currently sitting on my money to respond to enquiries. (That's "my money that I earned in an earlier decade". It's grown under their management OK, but if they want to be my actual pension provider they need better customer service.) Recent changes in the rules mean that I should be able to derive an income from it that'll last till I can afford to retire properly, while being adequate in a way that my current benefits aren't.

I want to be: retired! A bit of "the change I want to see in the world" wouldn't go amiss too, but I can't see much beyond that horizon.

My favourite corporate card received this year (from Shared Interest):

FESTIVE HOPE FOR A HAPPY AND FRUITFUL NEW YEAR

(in which I might actually post occasionally! Who knows!)