Arse

Well, that's the end of another dream. After all my proclamations to the contrary, and despite one doctor telling me one thing when actually the opposite is true (apparently he is a newbie doctor, although I'm still contemplating the lawsuit for getting my hopes up too much), it appears that yes Vince, you were right. There is no legal cure for hayfever. Well, that's not strictly true. There is a cure for hayfever, but no doctor will prescribe it because by taking it you run the risk of suffering such glamorous after effects as brittle bones, stomach ulcers, cancer, etc etc...

So. No hayfever steroid jab for me. And no hayfever steroid tablets either, because they are just as bad. I've been on them for a week and all has been well in the nasal passage department apart from the odd snort and sneeze. But the doctor I saw today was quite upset that I'd even been prescribed a weeks worth of the things. Four days of them is more than dangerous it seems, so if I suddenly disappear from the blogging radar you'll know what's happened.

I wasn't about to leave the surgery without some kind of cure under my arm, so I pestered the kind (or not so kind) doctor and after suggesting that I emigrate, which to be honest isn't such a terrible idea, he agreed to prescribe me some high dosage antihistamine fuckoff pills. They make you drowsy, or so he says, but I don't drive or operate machinery so I'm going to cane them. If I can't have the cure then I'll have to improvise the next best thing, and hopefully get slightly off my face at the same time! Should make the working week a lot more bearable, as well as possibly provide hours of entertainment for my customers and work colleagues. As if I wasn't amusing enough...

Lastly, got myself the Squidgie Frisbee. It certainly is squidgie, and a frisbee, so it more than lives up to it's title. And Mrs L doesn't have to wear gardening gloves to catch it anymore. Result!