I'm sat here in a community centre waiting to donate a pint of blood.
I've never given blood before, to be honest I'm not even sure what blood type I have, the whole experience is a little weird. Here I am waiting to be drained of some of my life force while Jack plays Star Wars in the corner hoping that he can have some of my chocolate biscuit afterward.
Helen is a veteran donor, she's got a rare blood type and thusly tries I ensure that supply is topped up.
I'd arrived this morning expecting an empty room with medical types over enthusiastically trying to encourage a repeat visit. What I've found instead is a mobile clinic jammed full of donors. The NHS Make it sound like the have such a hard time getting blood donors that Monty Python style blood collections are just around the corner.
She stuck the straw like needle into my arm and asked, 'How does that feel, alright?' I wasn't sure how to answer.
About three quarters through the letting my machine started complaining that I wasn't bleeding fast enough. So I was instructed through a bunch of exercises to do to help encourage blood flow. Apparently the machine calls it quits after fifteen minutes wether you've given the full pint or not.
I managed to fill the bag and was bandages up and sent to the replenishments table where Jack ate my cookies. I'm under strict instruction to take it easy for the rest of the day, and to make sure I eat an drink plenty. I don't think that'll be a problem.
All in all it was an interesting experience and I have every intention of doing it again in four months. In fact, I think I might make this a Christmas tradition.
Can we have your liver? - John Cleese