So after a week or so of singing in Vegas, showers in the snowy Sierras, scorching in Sacramento, fog in San Francisco and downright drinking in Davis, Tel has left the building, and I'm back to work, my first official days on the job. And then... son-of-a-BOOM! son-of-a-BAM! and my hay fever kicks into gear, first day of May, the eyes are itching, the nose is bitching, shares in Kleenex are going up-up-and-away. Part of me had hoped that, being in a new country, I might escape the annual sneezing season, for a year at least. After all, I'd barely gotten it at all in Provence, where I suspect the Mistral just blew all the bad allergens across the sea to Africa. Not here. The Central Valley heat has begun, and the rains have gone away. The grass is still lush green, but within a month will be the colour of Weetabix. just a couple of weeks ago we were complaining about the bloody rain, and now we're up in the late 80s and early 90s (but without the Stone Roses). But Phew! What A Scorcher, I'm assured, is yet to come, and the spiders and other bugs are already out in force. The thought occured today, that I could keep a diary of my hay-fever. Count how many sneezes I sneeze every day, how many tissues I use, the level of eye-redness (one year I went totally Sith, I don't care, it was cool), so I can compare, year-by-year, how good or bad my hay-fever/dust allergies are getting. But then I thought, hang on, I have a life, I work 54 damn hours a week, who am I, Cosmo Kramer? And what's going on with the England footy team? Who's gonna be the new manager? Scolari turned them down, Wenger laughed in their faces, so it looks like McLaren will probably get it, the job nobody who's anybody wants. And then there's Rooney - he can't be injured, surely! We were so looking forward to watching young big-ears in the World Cup. Oh well. At least Spurs are in Europe.
hay fifa
2.5.06 07:31
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