I always think this bit is like ‘the phoney war’, there is this sense of something impending, something of enormous magnitude, but it just hasn’t happened yet.
In the mean time there is the routine of being ‘admitted’, a warm welcome on entering the ward; tea, sandwiches, a friendly smile, and then Wham! “No eating after 4 o clock”…… “but that’s 2 days” (surely they must know I eat for England, i’l never survive, I mean, no , what!, I don’t want to play anymore).
Realisation has now set in……’For you Tommy ze vor is over’ 😶
Then follows a period of measurements of various nomenclature (weight, height, blood sugar) and some undignified swabbing of various orifices around my anatomy. Thankfully my ‘hibiscrub’ routine should ensure that my scrotum is scrupulously free of anything nasty. Can’t guarantee my nostrils.
We are then left, it’s WiFi setup, unpack, and prepare for what I know is coming next…..