We are now back home on our tiny tropical island. Monty dog is delighted to see us and is acting as if we’re never to be out of his sight again.

To get here we had a couple of similar but very different experiences with regards to COVID testing. The protocols relating to travel to Barbados clearly state all passengers need to have a negative COVID PCR test taken 72 hours ahead of disembarkation.

We had a night of stress; well to be accurate Craig was stressed; trying to book a COVID test in England for the following day is a bit like trying to get popular festival tickets the moment they go on sale. Web pages refusing to load, the need for constantly inputting various bits of information only to find out no test slots are available so to start all over again. Eventually,  we find a 15.30-1600 drive through slot in Chesterfield, miles past our Rotherham destination. This also means we need to leave St Andrews at 0900 the next morning instead of having a leisurely final breakfast with the boy.

Craig drives through Storm Francis in grim determination with the wind and rain battering our hired Volvo. It eats up the miles as we drive further away from the boy, out of the homeland and into the mood matching weather front. Stopping only for petrol and a brief comfort break we make the testing site at 15.40 to find it deserted. We are the only clients here. No queues; no need to show the desperately saved QR code’s from the gov.uk site; no need to match the car registration in some undefined system. Just gather some paperwork which is attached to our windscreen wipers and drive through to two medical staff, bundled up again the biting gales and nippy rain squalls who are barely sheltered in the large open ended marquee. The swab down the throat makes us gag and the nose swab is not at all uncomfortable: 5 swipes round each nostril with all 3 swabs bagged and labeled using the codes they’ve given us to register to receive our results. We drive out of the test Centre at 15.53 with a deflated air: is this really it?

Of course it isn’t. This is England 2020 under the Johnson government; we get on the plane 72 hours later with no results.

Arriving in Barbados, we walk towards the line with the other unfortunates who have not received their test results on time. It is quite a line. Thankfully our dip passports help us gain quicker traction and about 30 minutes after landing in Barbados and completing a form, I am in a cubicle with a fully gowned up medical doctor resembling a medic in a war zone.

This experience is very different. The throat swab is way longer than the UK version and I wretch several times before she takes it out my mouth. Just like the UK COVID experience she hands me a tissue and tells me to blow my nose to clear the nasal passages ahead of the next part of the test. She then asks me if I have a preference of which nostril to use, I am slightly perplexed by the question but state I have no preference. She then asks me to do a couple of deep breaths and to then continue to breathe through my mouth as she inserts the swab up my left nostril and down towards my throat. This is my surgical side and within a few seconds I’m aware it’s a poor choice. This is no tickle, my eyes are watering and she continues to probe for just over 10 seconds. It feels like my nose is bleeding. It’s not pleasant. It feels invasive. When done I ask about the test procedure explaining the difference in experience from the UK. She tells me Barbados is following WHO guidelines with no deviation and that she is aware of a number of false negative tests arriving into the island.

I’m curious so I start asking other friends and colleagues about their experience of COVID tests in the UK. So far the common factors seem to be the throat swab and the mild gag reflex. But some have had their nose swabbed with the other end of the test stick used for their throat swab, some have had both nostrils done, some have had only one nostril done. None have had their nose swab done down the back of their nasal passage.

I’m left wondering about testing consistency and voracity. Naturally in a small island it’s easier to control the process to ensure all testing follows WHO guidelines but how is this managed in the UK? Who is testing the testers?

After a summer of gaffes and U turns, falsehoods and blame-shifting, my Westminster trust quota is at its lowest level. The levels of grey uncertainty in my mind are far exceeding any minuscule slivers of black and white. Public health and well-being are paramount to getting our economy back on its feet and test, track and trace are fundamental foundations to this goal. 

From my limited experience and investigations, surely it’s not beyond the wit of man to get some consistency across testing protocols, including on how to book a test?

The lesson being learned; be careful where we put our X.