I had to give blood this morning. Shock, horror. Okay, so I didn't actually give it. I let them have just enough to check me out. I know, I know. One day, I'll be in a horrific chain saw accident, and I'll get to the hospital to find they're out of spare blood. "Sorry," they'll say, "but there are too many wimps in the world and we have no blood."
I'll do most things for a cup of tea and a biscuit but, unfortunately, giving blood isn't one of them.
So yes, I had a blood test. I closed my eyes and thought of nice things like this:
It took seconds, it wasn't as painful as watching Burnley on Saturday, and I came home unscathed. I survived.
So instead of patting myself on the back and commending my own bravery, I should get some words written, shouldn't I? I'm gone.