I am a man of good intentions.
I am also a procrastinator of the highest order.
Sometimes it is good to defer an action for a day or two: if it’s pouring with rain there is no point working in the garden; if you’re not hungry you can always pop the joint in the fridge and have your roast dinner tomorrow.
Then there are times when you tell yourself you can move items on a to-do list down a few notches as other things are more important
Finally there are things you keep putting off forever because you know that at the end of the day nobody gets hurt. Or do they?
My father-in-law was a regular blood donor, he had a badge to prove it. Over the years I kept saying: “I must go and give them an armful the next time there’s a session in town.”
Unfortunately there always appeared to be something more important to do when that day came: I had an important meeting to attend; I had an appointment with the optician; I was just too busy to find the time.
Did it really matter? There were plenty of other donors.
I was in my mid-40s before I actually got around to giving blood.
Marion and I went to a blood donor session at Diss, in Norfolk.
I was amazed to find how simple it all was. They put the needle in and I watched the blood flow out. After a few minutes they took the needle out, put a plaster on the hole, gave me a cup of tea and a biscuit and I was done.
I had to wait for Marion because her blood flowed rather sluggishly.
That was the first and last time I gave blood.
Soon afterwards I started to have medical problems which precluded me from donating blood and I realised I had procrastinated too long. If I had started 10 years before, or even five years, then my donations might have been beneficial to others.
Nowadays my veins shrink away at the sight of a needle and the surgery nurses have to wander far and wide to find one that will offer up enough blood to allow tests for all sorts of things I have to put up with these days.
Robin's Nest 