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I'm alive!

Yesterday was quite "exciting". I took part in the "+ Our Future Health" research organised by the NHS via an external agency, so no using valuable Angels (nurses) time. This was in a converted truck thing parked in a relatively proximal Asda superstore on the edge of town.

In essence, this research is to ascertain how overweight, unhealthy and near to death you are and to advise the denizens of the locality to reduce their alcohol intake to 6 pints a day, chain smoke less enthusiastically, enjoy kebabs only every other night and to at least walk rather than order an Uber to take you to the curbsite outside your flat to retrieve your recycle bin after the Council collects it.

The affable young lady undertaking my test was a rather personable Liverpudlian (she pronounced "chicccchen" authentically) and enjoyed conversations on all topics. Upon my suggestion, she googled and watched the famous "blood donation" sketch from Tony Hancock (she had never heard of him) to much hilarity, sharing it with fellow staff members, none of whom had heard of him either.

My results were rather surprising, although, in my own defence, I do take some dietary precautions. Aside from noting that in my six decades I have shrunk 2.5cm in height, the 2.5cm having in the interim mysteriously transferred itself to my girth, my BMI is under 28. This means that while I am in fat git territory, I'm still several points under obese git territory. So if I was to consume 28kg of celery by the weekend, the calories needed to digest it would return my body to the stature of Daniel Craig's. Stirred but not shaken.

My other vital signs were extremely and surprisingly healthy. My blood pressure and heart rate are spot on. My cholesterol is 4.06 [HDL (good)1.03, LDL (bad) 1.76] and my triglycerides (wow, I have not one but THREE glycerides!!!!!!) are spot on at 2.3.

(I don't understand why GP's don't have this instant cholesterol system in place; all it takes is a George Galloway [a little prick] to the finger and a drop of blood on a monitor-thing rather than taking a blood sample, someone collecting it to take to the local hospital lab and then waiting a week before phoning the practice for the result).

In summary, the technician informed me I have the health of an average active 28-year-old, presumably not including my wonderful son who is of similar age but can lift the back of a Toyota Aventis off the ground with one hand and who is actually too fit to be a bouncer (sorry, "premises security consultant").

I did ask for proof of this "health of a 28-year-old" statement so I could hotfoot it off to my local library to boast to the somewhat fruity 20-something librarian, but sadly, the technician declined.

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