Giving blood for a biscuit

I was keen to have my blood taken for a number of reasons. For instance, I have a morbid enjoyment of being stuck with needles, and it meant an hour away from my desk being worthy.

Plus you get free biscuits, an awesome head rush and replacing the lost blood uses 650 calories. So essentially I was having my lifeblood drained off for a cheap thrill and a biscuit.

Rather more seriously, a much beloved relative had a serious car accident a year ago and needed a transfusion. I want to make sure there is plenty of compatible blood around in case she does it again.

So at 9am this morning I trooped off to answer searching questions on my sexual history and, before I knew it, I was lying on a bed, bleeding into a plastic bag.

While this was happening I was wondering if I could organise some kind of waiver that says certain people are not entitled to my blood if they need it. Ex-boyfriends are fair game, I think. If you don’t want me in your life, then you don’t want me in your veins either. I take rejection of me to include all tissue at a cellular level.

As I was thinking of this I was wondering if there were any people who I would give my blood to even if they didn’t want it. For example, I think Charlotte Church is an absolute legend, but if I turned up at her house proffering a jam jar of haemoglobin I might look a bit strange. Better save that for Angelina Jolie. She would love that sort of thing.

But anyway, give blood, people! It is a nice thing to do, and you do get a lie down and a custard cream.