An hour or so ago, a slim nurse gave me my last Rabies and Hepatitis B jabs - she moved deftly and very quickly, injecting the vaccines with uncanny skill - I offered my right arm first, for the Hepatitis B vaccine, then my left arm for the rabies vaccine - my right arm is now tingling, but the left arm feels unaffected -
My dad told me how he and his messmates took to their hammocks, when they had their jabs for the tropics - I imagined them, in a sweltering cruiser, the fans whirring above their heads, their arms swollen with new anti-bodies - later, they would gulp down their tots, breath exotic sultry air - the chill of Pompey would leave their young bones -
Since my diagnosis of Bowel Cancer, countless needles have pierced my veins - I have lost my boyhood fears of injections - I had to beguiled to sit still when getting my jabs - look over there, Chris - there's a submarine - I can remember, even now, the long grey shape in the harbour, framed by the window of the surgery -
Now, preparing for a jaunt to Cochin, we are getting our jabs - Len and his wife, Christine, had visited India a few years ago - Len told me that as soon as he left the pristine jet, he smelt spices, dust and ordure - a veteran of the school dining hall at Portchester, Len was unfazed by the demanding crowds -
I glance at my India Visa, and at the page in the Times Atlas showing Cochin, or Kochi - already, I am starting to be consumed by excitement - yet, also, a boy from narrow roads, it all still seems a dream -
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