Dear hayfever, thank you for ruining my life

What’s been great about having you back in my life is that, just as the world is opening up again, you have made it almost impossible to socialise

<p>The joys of summer</p>

The joys of summer

Dear hayfever,

I won’t ask how you are because I already know. You are, of course, in fine fettle. Are you ever not? Quite a character. Life and troll of the party. Yes, you seem to be enjoying the sun and the heat and really making the most of this chance to touch base with so many of your old friends, me included, who have missed you this past year. Absence certainly makes the eyes go redder.

You were, in fact, the very first thing I thought about this morning when I woke up in a pool of sweat, scarcely able to breathe, my nose seemingly squashed into my face. It must have been about 3am, admittedly a little before my alarm usually goes off. Ha! Do you never sleep? No, nor me these days. Which is weird since I can’t actually keep my eyes open. I do try to sleep but when you’re with me, I constantly feel like I have the worst hangover of my life, though without a single fun memory to show for it.

What’s been great about having you back in my life is that, just as the world is opening up again, you have made it almost impossible to socialise. It really is odd to survive the Covid-19 pandemic, only to be laid low by you. Oh, I must tell you by the way. I was having dinner with some friends last night and sneezed, I think, two dozen times before we’d even sat down to eat. No one seemed to mind but I couldn’t honestly tell. All I could see was a filmy wash of shifting shapes through eyes so puffy I could feel the weight of them. A good evening – and for that I have you to thank.

What do you get out of this? Are you like that kid who enjoys refracting light off their watch into the teacher’s eyes? Is there pleasure to be had in this silent chaos? Talk to me. Tell me what it is that you want from me. There was a time when Piriton seemed to satisfy your demands. I know! I can almost hear you laughing as I write this. Nope, not interested this year. So what else? I am begging you to answer me. Don’t take this the wrong way but there is almost nothing I won’t do to get rid of you.

Anyway, look, I need to dash off. Things to do. Sinks to fumble to. Freezing cold water to snort up my nose. Totally normal ways to pass a summer’s day. But I hope to hear from you soon. You know where I am. Of course you do, you never leave me alone.

Until then, dear hayfever – it has, as always, been a f****** nightmare.

Yours,

Rupert

Register for free to continue reading

Registration is a free and easy way to support our truly independent journalism

By registering, you will also enjoy limited access to Premium articles, exclusive newsletters, commenting, and virtual events with our leading journalists

Please enter a valid email
Please enter a valid email
Must be at least 6 characters, include an upper and lower case character and a number
Must be at least 6 characters, include an upper and lower case character and a number
Must be at least 6 characters, include an upper and lower case character and a number
Please enter your first name
Special characters aren’t allowed
Please enter a name between 1 and 40 characters
Please enter your last name
Special characters aren’t allowed
Please enter a name between 1 and 40 characters
You must be over 18 years old to register
You must be over 18 years old to register
Opt-out-policy
You can opt-out at any time by signing in to your account to manage your preferences. Each email has a link to unsubscribe.

By clicking ‘Create my account’ you confirm that your data has been entered correctly and you have read and agree to our Terms of use, Cookie policy and Privacy notice.

This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy policy and Terms of service apply.

Already have an account? sign in

By clicking ‘Register’ you confirm that your data has been entered correctly and you have read and agree to our Terms of use, Cookie policy and Privacy notice.

This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy policy and Terms of service apply.

Register for free to continue reading

Registration is a free and easy way to support our truly independent journalism

By registering, you will also enjoy limited access to Premium articles, exclusive newsletters, commenting, and virtual events with our leading journalists

Already have an account? sign in

By clicking ‘Register’ you confirm that your data has been entered correctly and you have read and agree to our Terms of use, Cookie policy and Privacy notice.

This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy policy and Terms of service apply.

Join our new commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in