I'll take a few jab side-effects if it means I can hide from our kids for the day | Steve Canavan

I’ve had the vaccine and can now walk up to a stranger, snog them on the lips, and not have to worry about a thing… apart from a hefty fine and arrest by the police for sexual assault.

This actually happened to me once – the being kissed bit, not the assault.

I was in a nightclub as a young man when a complete stranger approached me on the dancefloor, tenderly stroked my hair, and then passionately kissed me for several minutes.

I’m not going to lie, it was actually very pleasant, although he did have very prickly facial hair.

But back to the vaccine.

Now I know what you’re all thinking – how can you, Steve, such a virile handsome man, in the prime of his life, in peak physical fitness and shape, need a vaccine?

Well, in truth I got it earlier than I should. Being in my early 40s (45 is early 40s, right?) I wasn’t due to have the jab yet, but – late on a weekday last week – word got round that a local vaccination centre had some leftovers and were offering them to anyone aged 40 or above who arrived before 5pm.

I was teaching a class at the time (that’s my day job) and so naturally did what any professional would have done and said: ‘Class is ending early today, see you later’, and hot-footed it to the vaccine place.

The place was incredibly well organised, with a small army of volunteers wearing snazzy luminous jackets on hand to see to your every need.

Before I’d even made it across the car park, I was greeted by five volunteers, who all smiled at me as if I were a long-lost friend and were so friendly and helpful I half-expected them to usher me towards a sun-lounger, bring me a martini and begin a gentle foot massage.

‘Good afternoon,’ said the woman at the front door, with a broad smile and an enthusiasm that suggested she used to work as a children’s television presenter. ‘Are you here to have your vaccine?’

Which was a slightly odd question as I was stood at a door above which was a huge sign saying Vaccine Centre.

‘No, I’m here to buy a lawnmower – have you got the new Bosch Rotak 320ER Corded Rotary in stock?’ I was tempted to ask, but decided she might not see the funny side so refrained.

Instead I confirmed I was indeed there to have the vaccine and she told me to join a queue, keeping the obligatory two metres from the person in front (which in this case I was happy to do as he was a rather large man who, at a conservative guess judging by the odour wafting up my nostrils, had last showered around Bonfire Night).

A lot of the folk in there were a similar age to myself and seemed to be treating it as if they were on a day out at a theme park, for they were taking lots of pictures on their phone – presumably to be later posted on Facebook or some other social media platform alongside the caption: ‘OMG, just having my vaccine!!!’ you know, because that’s really of interest to other people.

When I got to the reception bit, another smiley woman greeted me, handed me a card, and directed me towards another queue.

I noted – with some resentment – that when she dealt with the person behind me in the queue, a bloke who looked a similar age to me I thought, the first thing she asked was: ‘Are you over 40 sir?’

Does my face look so haggard and worn she felt she simply didn’t have to bother checking my age?

I made a mental note to stop at Boots on the way home for some new moisturiser.

The jab itself was straightforward and I was back in my car within 10 minutes, suddenly feeling superhuman and like I could walk out in front of a fast-moving HGV, hold out my hand and repel it… though I decided against testing this out.

Without wanting to put anyone off – because I believe this is uncommon – but the next 24 hours were not particularly pleasant.

I was fine till about midnight but then, within minutes of getting into bed, began to shake uncontrollably.

I put on my thermal socks, a fleece, a dressing gown, and had another dressing gown over the top of the duvet cover but even so it took half an hour or so before I stopped trembling.

Then I must have dozed off, only to wake an hour later dripping with sweat – perhaps hardly surprising given I was now wearing more layers than an Arctic explorer.

With a throbbing headache to boot, the remainder of the night was a write off as I tossed and turned and generally felt pretty lousy.

The one upside was that when my four-year-old burst into the bedroom at 6am, I was able to turn to Mrs Canavan and feebly say: ‘You’re going to have to deal with the kids today sweet lips (it’s important to use loving monikers in a relationship – I read it in a book), I feel too ill’.

Indeed I stayed in bed till four in the afternoon, at which point I finally began to feel human again.

Well, in truth, I felt better from about midday but realised lying in bed was so much more enjoyable than having to deal with two children, as per the usual Saturday, so thought I’d drag out my incapacity for as long as possible.

I’m now back to full fitness and looking forward to my second jab (booked for June), not because it’ll mean I’m fully protected but because, with a bit of luck, I’ll get to have another day in bed, away from the kids.

Fingers crossed.