The appointments this year were unusually precise. The first time I signed up for a jab in my office - far longer ago than I wish to recall - the schedule was sometime between 9.30am and 10.30am. Maybe.
This year I signed up for my injection between the minutes of 8.34am and 8.36am. I didn't recognise the room at first because there wasn't a line of people outside sitting and waiting. Just a row of empty chairs.
Unlike last year - when apparently even random flu injectors were trying to force me onto a diet - there were lollipops. The nurse apologised for her cold hands. Apologised.
I felt guilty when I ignored her advice to wait twenty minutes to see if the injection would kill me or not before returning to my cubicle.
I made the excuse that there were first aiders on our floor, knowing full well that if there was anything seriously wrong with me I wouldn't be saved by a lot of hand-wringing and saying 'I don't know what to do.'
I survived, however.
In fact, I'd completely forgotten about the jab altogether until I lightly brushed my arm in the exact injection spot when removing my uniform this evening.
I have not forgotten since.
Still, whatever doesn't kill you should make you immune to swine flu. This year anyhow.