LONDON, U.K. -- I got a note the other day from the British Department of Health and Social Care: You have been randomly selected to take part in the largest COVID-19 research study in England. Your home testing kit will arrive in a few days.

At a time when thousands of people in this country -- and Canada -- can’t get access to tests, even if they’re showing possible symptoms, I got one I hadn’t even asked for.

And I knew I was negative even before sticking that little white swab up my nose. But who’s going to say no to a free test, right?

I knew, because we have been living like hermits in our little semi-locked down COVID world for months. We now have an air purifier, to go along with our infra-red, virus-killing scanner. And who else do you know sprays the soles of their shoes with disinfectant?

Just trying to survive.

A few days later a courier showed up at the door with a flat package containing my test kit: a plastic vial, a cotton swab, a biohazard bag, a box for returning it all, and a booklet of instructions. Six pages.

“Are you ready to take the test?”

Ready.

“Prepare to take the sample.”

This is when you wash your hands for 20 seconds, unpack the test kit and lay it all out on a clean, dry surface.

Next, the instruction booklet tells you to look in a mirror for your tonsils, and if you don’t have tonsils, rub the swab over the area where your tonsils used to be – “AROUND TEN TIMES ON EACH SIDE.”

It also warns in red letters: “This may be uncomfortable, and you may feel like gagging.”

OK, no tonsils, so here we go, very gently, with a vague idea of where I was supposed to be aiming.

And?

Gagged. And gagged again. And once more on the other side. Definitely uncomfortable. Even Sammy the Dog came rushing to see what was going on.

The nose swab was somewhat easier, a mere 10-15 seconds in each nostril, rotating the swab five times. But don’t let me put you off. It could save your life.

I also had to complete an online questionnaire about my experience, so I put a little check mark beside the word “difficult.” What’s a little discomfort in the name of science?

I’m assuming my unpleasant bout of gagging will give new insight into who is being infected and how the virus is spreading across the U.K. The questions were good. In the last seven days had I been to the pub? To the hairdressers? Shaken hands with anybody? How many non-family members had I been in contact with?

It was all very timely since Prime Minister Boris Johnson has now added six more months of lockdown pain. Pubs must close at 10 pm. Millions of office workers have been told to work from home if they can.

And nobody is sure if these new measures will be enough to bring the infection rate down?

My prediction: Forget family Christmas.

Anyway, three days later I got my test results back.

Told you!