I am a singer. All singers are hypochondriacs. Therefore I am a hypochondriac. This is good logic. Socrates would be proud of me – that old Greek Socrates who is a mortal, you’ve heard of him?
I love the spring. Autumn is my favourite season but the spring runs it a very close second…however over the last few years I have found myself increasingly vulnerable to pollen…yes, pollen – the stuff that comes out of flowers, pollinates things, sticks to bees’ legs and generally floats around all through springtime.
It seems recently to have decided to attack my nasal passages, eyes and lungs too…making them all feel as if they have been lined with strips of dusty old carpet. I am wheezing like an old grizzled gold prospector, my eyes are red and dry like 2 dusty Mars craters and I am sneezing like a…well, like a sneezy thing.
To normal mortals such as Socrates this may be only a minor irritation…but…
I am a singer – and a singer who can’t sing is only half a mortal. AND all singers are hypochondriacs…
To compound this misery there is the name of this affliction, “hay fever”, HAY FEVER!!! I mean, what kind of name is THAT! Hay fever…ha!
This is something even the most dedicated self-respecting hypochondriac finds it difficult to admit to. It is just embarrassing…hay fever…pah!
It needs a sort of Greeky type name to make it sound a bit more life threatening.
Hmm...how about “Anthopollenic Poisoning”? Which could be impressively shortened to “AP”.
No, hang on…it needs an “S”…syndrome? “Anthopollenic Poisoning Syndrome” – “APS”.
"Have you heard about Phil? He has got APS."
"Oh the poor sod!"
Oh YES - that's good! I feel better already...