I forget how irritating it is. Your eyes feel like they have been rubbed with salt and your throat is a pool of fire. Each nostril gets inflamed and blocked, yet still dribbles sticky wet mucus down your face (sorry but it's true) and your sneezes echo off the walls like gunshots. All the while I feel like I've been punched in the face by flowers.
Two people have suggested antihistamines today. The science is that they seal up your nasal passages, preventing pollen from scratching its way up your nose.
I don't want to go into detail but while antihistamines do seal up the nostrils, they also seem to unseal my intestines in an extremely unhelpful way. Sure I'd like to enjoy the sunshine of early June, but I'd also quite like to enjoy it without having to be in awkward-sprinting-distance of a toilet.
I suppose I should stop moaning. It's only for a few weeks a year, after all. People have to put up with much worse.
Me playing the electric guitar in town for example.
I'm only joking. We did go down and do some playing earlier though. We were allowed to play on the grass of St Mary's cemetery by John Lewis. I fiddled around on the electric as though I were still working out where all the strings were, while Rory played as brilliantly as he usually does and Bethany (one of the Excitable Americans) sang. A lot of people looked up at us as they walked by. I saw a few demons glaring at me and quickly reminded myself that I was standing on consecrated ground.
I hope we get to do more of that kind of thing. It felt as though we were singing out from the very centre of our town, under the green oak leaves by the gravestones in the grass. Things happen when you do that.
Well, I started sneezing, for one thing.
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