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Beast and I went to Diss this afternoon
We both participate in the Covid-19 study via app, and it asked me to get a test done. (I'd had mild hayfever symptoms and then strained a muscle in my back, so reporting these symptoms must have tripped a switch somewhere. I'm pretty sure I don't have the virus.)
I thought it might be of interest to those in the UK who haven't had a test to know what happens, so here goes.
Booking it is relatively easy - you have the option of getting a home test or going to a drive-through. All the home tests for the day were gone (query - why? What I received is what someone at home would receive—can't they afford the postage?) but I managed to book for tomorrow (ie, today) in a time block convenient to me. Doing it this way obviously means you have to be able to get there by car, so may not be helpful to anyone. They also tell you to take hand sanitiser/antiseptic wipes, photo ID and a bar code which they email to you. I printed mine off, which turned out to be a good call as the soldier had to read and scan it through the car window. You also need a tissue, which wasn't mentioned, but I always have one. And a mobile phone, see next paragraph.
We drove over there and were greeted by a man in Army casuals, mask and plastic apron (pegged to the trousers!), and were presented with a phone number to call so as to speak to the chap without any exchange of air. I showed him my printed-off bar code and confirmed my name and date of birth (he didn't ask to see ID at any point). He posted the plastic-wrapped test through the rear window, and we moved along to park properly. The whole thing took place in a car park just outside Diss, about twenty miles from here—I was a bit surprised that there was nowhere more convenient to Norwich, but perhaps they don't want people popping in for a test for no good reason. Anyway, a sunny drive through Norfolk in minimal traffic is not an unpleasant experience.
The package contained an eight-page leaflet of instructions. Eight! We read it earnestly. There was a certain amount of fumbling about, as there were six items in the pack besides the instruction leaflet. It is difficult to keep track of *six* items when you're sitting in a car. Having a companion along for the ride is definitely helpful and I recommend it—Beast was able to read the instructions to me step by step as I fumbled with a long poky thing and various potions and tried very hard not to touch anything else. If both of you have the test done at the same time, I strongly recommend doing it one at a time rather than in parallel!
So, on to the fun part. After hand sanitising, clear your nose and cough into a tissue, then use the swab. It's like a cotton bud that grew to twice the normal height. You poke around your tonsils for ten seconds—this is not at all nice and made me want to gag—and then stick it up your nose and rotate it for another 10-15 seconds. Ick. Then stick it into a little vial half-filled with fluid, and snap off the end of the swab so that it fits and you can put the lid back on. This then goes into a plastic ziplock bag along with a bit of absorbent thick tissue paper.
There are bar codes, one of which goes onto the vial, another of which goes onto the outside of the biohazard bag into which you put the ziplock bag. At this point, we drove round to the exit point, another phone call to the chap with the instructions, who checked that this and that had been done correctly and scanned our bar codes, then told us to seal the biohazard bag. This was then posted through a narrow gap in my front window into a large box held gingerly at arms length, and we were done.
If Beast is asked to get tested, or if I have to go again, I think an in-car table of some sort will be very useful, so we will take one of our lap trays, suitably disinfected, and put the array of Stuff onto that, which will stop the frantic where-did-it-get-to when we couldn't find the ziplock bag. So I recommend this to you. So much Stuff! The instructions were perfectly clear, and everything went smoothly (except the feeling of a cotton bud scraping against my tonsils, ick).
This has been a public service announcement.
I thought it might be of interest to those in the UK who haven't had a test to know what happens, so here goes.
Booking it is relatively easy - you have the option of getting a home test or going to a drive-through. All the home tests for the day were gone (query - why? What I received is what someone at home would receive—can't they afford the postage?) but I managed to book for tomorrow (ie, today) in a time block convenient to me. Doing it this way obviously means you have to be able to get there by car, so may not be helpful to anyone. They also tell you to take hand sanitiser/antiseptic wipes, photo ID and a bar code which they email to you. I printed mine off, which turned out to be a good call as the soldier had to read and scan it through the car window. You also need a tissue, which wasn't mentioned, but I always have one. And a mobile phone, see next paragraph.
We drove over there and were greeted by a man in Army casuals, mask and plastic apron (pegged to the trousers!), and were presented with a phone number to call so as to speak to the chap without any exchange of air. I showed him my printed-off bar code and confirmed my name and date of birth (he didn't ask to see ID at any point). He posted the plastic-wrapped test through the rear window, and we moved along to park properly. The whole thing took place in a car park just outside Diss, about twenty miles from here—I was a bit surprised that there was nowhere more convenient to Norwich, but perhaps they don't want people popping in for a test for no good reason. Anyway, a sunny drive through Norfolk in minimal traffic is not an unpleasant experience.
The package contained an eight-page leaflet of instructions. Eight! We read it earnestly. There was a certain amount of fumbling about, as there were six items in the pack besides the instruction leaflet. It is difficult to keep track of *six* items when you're sitting in a car. Having a companion along for the ride is definitely helpful and I recommend it—Beast was able to read the instructions to me step by step as I fumbled with a long poky thing and various potions and tried very hard not to touch anything else. If both of you have the test done at the same time, I strongly recommend doing it one at a time rather than in parallel!
So, on to the fun part. After hand sanitising, clear your nose and cough into a tissue, then use the swab. It's like a cotton bud that grew to twice the normal height. You poke around your tonsils for ten seconds—this is not at all nice and made me want to gag—and then stick it up your nose and rotate it for another 10-15 seconds. Ick. Then stick it into a little vial half-filled with fluid, and snap off the end of the swab so that it fits and you can put the lid back on. This then goes into a plastic ziplock bag along with a bit of absorbent thick tissue paper.
There are bar codes, one of which goes onto the vial, another of which goes onto the outside of the biohazard bag into which you put the ziplock bag. At this point, we drove round to the exit point, another phone call to the chap with the instructions, who checked that this and that had been done correctly and scanned our bar codes, then told us to seal the biohazard bag. This was then posted through a narrow gap in my front window into a large box held gingerly at arms length, and we were done.
If Beast is asked to get tested, or if I have to go again, I think an in-car table of some sort will be very useful, so we will take one of our lap trays, suitably disinfected, and put the array of Stuff onto that, which will stop the frantic where-did-it-get-to when we couldn't find the ziplock bag. So I recommend this to you. So much Stuff! The instructions were perfectly clear, and everything went smoothly (except the feeling of a cotton bud scraping against my tonsils, ick).
This has been a public service announcement.