Your red scarf matches your eyes...

I am finding it damned difficult to focus today – in all senses of the word. My eyes are heavy and itchy and I feel a little light headed and feverish.

By doze iz blogged.

Yes, Gentle Reader, it is Spring and while there may be some confusion over the timing of the arrival of Green Day¹ there is clearly no confusion in the little veggie minds of (particularly) the cherry trees of Whetstone. They are gaily pumping out pollen by the ton². This means, inevitably, hay fever, which will now plague me to greater of lesser extents until sometime in October, though it will be at its worst until about mid-May, when the mad reproductive urge leaves the tree end of the plant world to be replaced by the casual vegetable promiscuity of summer.

I am armed with Boots proprietary “Hayfever and allergy relief” tablets and far more tissues than you would expect, but the packs come in bundles of six, so what can you do?

Of course, this is all exacerbated by the fat that we went to the pub last night for the quiz and had BEER. My sleep probably wasn’t of the highest quality on account of the alcohol and there was too little of it.

The upshot is that I am tired, feverish and snotty, with vision that feels as though it’s been filtered through a huffed lens: there’s a faint fog over everything I look at. There are weights on my eyelids and I want to go home.


¹The day of lush greenness, not the band

²Which is even more than these new fangled tonnes that the newspapers insist on quoting and which means f**k all to anyone over the age of 40.

Your red scarf matches your eyes...

I am finding it damned difficult to focus today – in all senses of the word. My eyes are heavy and itchy and I feel a little light headed and feverish.

By doze iz blogged.

Yes, Gentle Reader, it is Spring and while there may be some confusion over the timing of the arrival of Green Day¹ there is clearly no confusion in the little veggie minds of (particularly) the cherry trees of Whetstone. They are gaily pumping out pollen by the ton². This means, inevitably, hay fever, which will now plague me to greater of lesser extents until sometime in October, though it will be at its worst until about mid-May, when the mad reproductive urge leaves the tree end of the plant world to be replaced by the casual vegetable promiscuity of summer.

I am armed with Boots proprietary “Hayfever and allergy relief” tablets and far more tissues than you would expect, but the packs come in bundles of six, so what can you do?

Of course, this is all exacerbated by the fat that we went to the pub last night for the quiz and had BEER. My sleep probably wasn’t of the highest quality on account of the alcohol and there was too little of it.

The upshot is that I am tired, feverish and snotty, with vision that feels as though it’s been filtered through a huffed lens: there’s a faint fog over everything I look at. There are weights on my eyelids and I want to go home.


¹The day of lush greenness, not the band

²Which is even more than these new fangled tonnes that the newspapers insist on quoting and which means f**k all to anyone over the age of 40.