POLLEN DIARIES: PART 12

Oh brilliant. The old hay fever's back. With clockwork regularity, the season began and I drove to work today, sneezing loudly, and interrupting the radio.

My eyes are itchy too. They have been for a few days, I just didn't realise it was that time of year already. It's as though someone has rubbed chilli powder into my eyelashes. Rubbing, blinking, crying, sleeping, all seem like very effective ways to make it a whole lot worse.

So, strap yourselves in, people: it's time for my annual moan at how the nicest time of year coincides with the most annoying, how flowers are making it look like I've been punched in the face, and how expensive and feeble, medication is. Oh, and how for the nth year in a row, I've forgotten to eat locally produced honey (£7 a pot from the farm shop) or matcha (Junko's recommendation) other than in terrible tasting smoothies.

I looked up info online about hay fever. Sure, it's grass, not flowers, that's beating me up, and yes, there's a strong chance it might be genetic. Though I don't see the Intrepids spluttering through the garden while they sip earl grey and talk about how jolly nice the weather is.

Also, I was oh so deeply cheered to read this:

"The symptoms themselves do not come from the pollen, they come from you."

Thanks.

"Histamine is a chemical reaction produced by the body when it mistakenly thinks the immune system is under threat. When pollen enters the body of an allergy sufferer, it triggers the production of histamine, which then creates an inflammation of the nose and throat, along with all other symptoms."

Source: Who can cut it?

Thanks a lot, histamine. You're a bit like the US army, destroying a city while trying to stop Godzilla destroying a city. Is there any way at all, that my brain could convince you that I'm not actually under attack and you can stop inflaming my nostrils and my throat, or turning my eyes red?

But you can't exactly control your own chemistry can you? All you can do is trick it into believing that Godzilla is a feature, rather than a defect, and it would be better if we left him alone to get bored and jump back into the Pacific.

You know - I'm not entirely certain that the hay fever hasn't corrupted my metaphor engine. What in the world am I talking about?

If you need me, I'm on the way to the pharmacy.