7th March
Today was the day that Spencer and I had our appointments to attend the Biobank in Reading. We had received an invitation at the end of last year to take part in a national medical survey being run for the NHS which will analyse the health of thousands of people over the next 20 or 30 years.
We arrived at the clinic, and were quite impressed by the efficiency of it all. First we were each led to a computer terminal, where we had to answer a questionnaire about our general health, any exercise that we do (a good job I have joined that Body Balance class), and our eating habits. Then we were required to complete a few “memory games” before having a short interview with a Doctor where our blood pressure was taken. We were then weighed and measured, and our hand grip and lung function was tested as was our bone density. So far so good. As usual, Spencer always seemed to be one step ahead of me. As I came out of one room he was going into another. Then came a slight problem. I have always had trouble with blood tests. It’s not my fault you understand, but the Paulet blue blood does seem to have some difficulty when it comes to giving some away. In fact when I was in my 20’s I decided to become a blood donor, but after only one attempt I was politely asked not to come back. I did try and warn the charming doctor that perhaps my right arm would yield more success, but he was having none of it and tried a number of times (unsuccessfully) to get blood from my left. The electric fan went some way to reviving me, as did the glass of water, but it took two burly young men to pick me up off the floor. After 40 minutes, I regret to say that only 4 out of the 6 phials were filled with a rather meagre Paulet donation.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the curtain, I could hear Spencer chatting happily to some ladies whilst drinking his cup of coffee and eating a few biscuits. Interestingly enough, his print out of results, showed his blood pressure to be borderline and that he was overweight. I declined a biscuit for the same reason and we left the building.
I must have seemed a little flushed and flustered when later we walked down Broad Street, because outside one of the well known High Street Banks I was accosted by a man and women dressed up in Victorian costume. Before I knew where I was, the man had linked arms with me and propelled me into the Bank. “Would you like to win a bottle of champagne or some chocolates?” he cried. Before I could answer, he thrust a ticket into my hand and implored me to “Crack the Code” using a decoding board that was displayed in the Bank. There were 40 or 50 other people around doing the same thing, so I joined in. Can you believe it? When I transposed the numbers for letters in the code it read “Congratulations- you have won a prize!” Amid a fanfare and flurry of activity, the Branch Manager was summoned, and asked which prize I would like. I went for the champagne rather than the huge box of chocolates (bearing in mind Spencer’s aforementioned weight results), and my photo was taken for the local press. As I said to Spencer on the way back on the Park and Ride to the Madjeski, perhaps we should consider switching the Paulet-Halt banking arrangements. In over 30 years of banking, they might have been a listening bank, but I haven’t received so much as a poke in the ear with a sharp stick from them!