POLLEN DIARIES: PART 11

I went to the chemist (pharmacy) today to get something for the old hay fever.

It's been bad for the last few days - explosive sneezes and a throat that feels like sandpaper. As if that weren't bad enough, my eyes swim in watery pools and my face looks as though it's been dipped in a vat of chillis. My nose is on fire.

I asked around before I went.

"Don't get the tablets," said someone, "They don't really do much."

Noted. I used to take those, I remember, and they upset my digestion.

"I've found the nasal spray to be the best," said someone else knowledgeably. I had no reason not to be persuaded, so I wrapped my raincoat around me and swept out of the door, en route to the High Street.

In the old days, the apothecary would have been a fascinating place: shelves full of coloured bottles of mysterious liquids, glass cabinets and jars. I picture an old man in a white coat who looks up at me from his ledger. He's wearing horn-rimmed spectacles, the arms of which disappear into his bushy sideburns. I remove my hat and scarf while he twiddles his wiry moustache.

Of course, these days the shelves are stacked with bright-coloured boxes - nappies, sanitary products, hair-dye, verruca relief, decongestant, travel-sickness pills, bottles and boxes emblazoned in words that end in Xs and Zs like Zovirax and Piriteze.

I found the nasal spray. It's called Prevalin. It contains:

bentonite veegum, xanthum gum, glycerol monostearate, potassium phosphate, glycerin, water, spearmint oil, water and 'mixed tocopherols'. Lovely.

I got back and read the instructions. After shoving it up one nostril and getting confused about why nothing was happening, I unscrewed the cap and tried again.

Two tiny jets of freezing spray shot into my nose. I yelped, twiddled my nose and then squeezed the nozzle into the other nostril and did the same.

Oh. You thought hay fever was bad. I haven't stopped sneezing since! My nose is now like a nuclear launch pad - bursting volleys of invisible spearmint and pollen into the atmosphere with loud, uncomfortable explosions.

Once again, the remedy is worse than the disease.

Still, I'm not going to complain about it. I'll keep going and give it a chance to do its work.

I'll be honest though, I sincerely wish I weren't allergic to grass in the first place.