In the end, for peace of mind, for valiant reasons, and for myself, I decided to go for a COVID test.
(I had a temperature, but not a defined 'high' temperature earlier in the week)
So I booked it and went. The nearest walk-in testing centre is in my old park, not too much of a drive away, and quite easy get to. I parked up (outside my old house) and strolled through the park, mask on.
It's a little bit like being on a movie-set. A huge white portable cabin sits in the middle of the fenced-off area, yellow steps leading up to its entrance where a burly man in high-vis stands with his arms folded.
There's a wide artificial path leading around the unit, made of the same kind of thing you'd expect the army to use for a pontoon bridge - a sort of sturdy, white rubber. When the lady in the booth had told me what to do, I walked around that wide path and stood sheepishly in front of Mr Burly.
So much about this pandemic reminds me of the speed with which everything has changed. This military-style operation, warning notices pinned to the fencing, queuing with masks strapped to our faces, rubbing our hands with sanitiser without evening thinking about it, all of this is so unthinkable really.
I got called in. Without touching the rails, I clanked up the yellow steps, past the security and into the cabin. I was handed a small black plastic bag, which would have everything I needed, and then I was shown to a 'bay' where I sat down in front of a small mirror and another pot of sanitiser.
"It's good actually, Matthew, as my name's Matthew as well," said the masked man who guided me through it. He was pleasant, concise and patient - which I figured would be exactly what I'd need. Step by exacting step, Matthew took me through the process.
First it seems you have to bring yourself close to gagging, by brushing your tonsils with a long cotton bud. That (I was told) is what the mirror was for - you're not allowed to touch your teeth, cheeks or lips. I felt my eyes watering and my stomach gurgling up to my throat in reflex. That is absolutely not pleasant. A couple of seconds more and I'd have spewed all over the mirror.
"And again," said Matthew, kindly. He's clearly seen it all before. I took a deep breath.
Then, that very same cotton bud needs to be wedged up your nostril and twisted around for fifteen seconds. Two thoughts went through my mind while I poked the inside of my nose: one, thank the Lord it's mouth first, and two - that scene from Total Recall where Arnie pulls a tracking device out of his brain through his nostril.
"13, 14, 15... Done!" exclaimed Matthew. I followed the steps to bag everything up, break off the cotton bud and wedge it business-end first into the test tube of pink solution. The tube goes in a double-wrapped and sealed 'biobag' which I dropped in to the lady at the end of the process, then I headed out like a Big Brother contestant, through the back door into daylight and freedom.
The wind blew leaves around the park. I'd not been there for a while and it was suddenly reminding me of how life, how childhood really, used to be. It's the worst kind of time-travel: visiting places that are aching with memories - I was young, times have changed so much, and now I'm not, and still they do.
There, opposite my car was our old house looking both new and exactly the same: same bricks, new windows, gates thrown across the drive where I used to chuck tennis balls about before racing over to the park. Everything was there, but nothing was there - like a sort of illusion that was twisting my memories into a new sort of reality. It's like a dream, I whispered to myself under my mask. My glasses steamed up.
And in this new reality, this cold dreamworld of present and past, I'd decided to get a test, even though I'm fairly certain the result will come back negative. I wish I hadn't had to do that. I wish I could have been young again, right there in the park with everyone I loved just over the road, home and safe.
But that is the point of all of this isn't it - ultimately we're doing all we can to keep everyone we love home and safe.
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