or, now I know how a panini feels (this was the original title, but you may have noticed that I can’t resist a bad pun)
Well, this week I had a new experience, albeit one I’ve been expecting since June 2023 when I turned 50. On Monday I had my first mammogram: usually you get the call when you turn 50 but it takes more than two years to get to the letter ‘S’ in the alphabet, apparently.
The weather was truly appalling on this most auspicious of days, and I was soaked through by the time I waded through the lake car park at St Margaret’s Hospital to the mobile screening unit. Inside it was quite cosy with the rain hammering down on the roof, bringing back memories of summer caravan holidays in Wales. All it required was a seagull tapdancing on the skylight and my dad insisting that the mist would burn off and the illusion would have been complete.
Dear readers, I am not normally given to stripping down to the waist in public carparks but needs must when the radiographer says so. It was at least warm in the unit, but far from being given ‘privacy to undress’ as described in the leaflet she was in the room the whole time. Still, as she was about to get familiar with my assets…
It was marginally less undignified than a smear test but I did feel as if there should have been an opportunity for some stretches first since contortionism isn’t to be attempted with no prior warm-up at my age. Grace is, of course, my middle name* so I handled the whole thing with my usual aplomb and didn’t creak once. Well, not much. And not audibly.
The very space age machine I was confronted with looked like nothing more than a high tech sandwich toaster, with a metal plate on the bottom and a perspex tray above. In NI, apparently, you must put your boob in the tray (and it did have a handy cut out on the top) but here in Essex they grasp your assets firmly, drape you artistically (er…) around the machine, mutter ‘pressure coming, hold your breath’ and use the bottom of the tray to squish you to the plate. Twice, from different angles. And then they do the other boob.
A top tip had been to make sure I ate beforehand, as unlike when you give blood no one gives you Tovali lemon squash and a Mint Club afterwards. This would have made the whole experience a lot more fun, and might have given the rain a chance to slack off before I left, too.
Still, in two weeks or so I should have the results and anything weird can be followed up on quickly. Like smear tests, these aren’t fun but they do have the potential to save your life so for the sake of five minutes out of your day go and get checked out when the call comes. You can buy yourself a whole pack of Mint Clubs afterwards as a reward.
*It actually is. Or one of them anyway.
Things making me happy this week
- My line manager shared her pictures from an exhibition at The Whitworth in Manchester – The Beginnings of Knowledge by Santiago Yahuarcani, a Peruvian artist. I don’t often fall completely for art but his pink river dolphins and mermaids enchanted me so much I ordered a print. It makes me happy every time I look at it.
- Lovely neighbour Sue helping me take lots of bags to the charity shop
- Fox’s Party Ring biscuits, and Thing 2’s latest cookie experiments (brown butter, Gingerbread Oreos and Smarties)
- Not the Central Line, whose definition of ‘good service’ included a 49 minute delay this week. Also not people who think Christmas trees and full outdoor light shows are acceptable on 11 November. They’re not. Stop it.
- My new Schools and Families Producer starting. Now I just need to let go of some stuff.
- An interesting masterclass on bringing creativity back into education, and the Curriculum Review recommending the abolition of the EBacc.
- All my friends in Monmouth being safe and dry, despite Storm Claudia doing her worst on Friday night/Saturday morning
Now back to the Christmas crochet! This week I’m looking forward to a session with lovely Play Build Play exploring the potential of our playful furniture with local families,
Kirsty x
What I’ve been reading:
The Echo of Crows – Phil Rickman
The Smile of a Ghost/The Remains of an Altar – Phil Rickman (Audible)
A Slowly Dying Cause – Elizabeth George, whose grasp of British idiom has not improved.
What Kirsty did next 