Covid, cold or hay fever?

I WAS out with the dog early morning when I saw it. Ambling through the skinny woods behind my house, a terrifying sight loomed into view: a tree in full blossom. I beat a hasty retreat, imagining menacing clouds of pollen in hot pursuit as I fled indoors.

As a hay fever sufferer there are few things quite as soulcrushing as realising yet another onslaught of itchy eyes, sneezing and a scratchy throat is imminent.

I have a love-hate relationship with spring.

My heart soars with joy at seeing the budding leaves, daffodils peeking their golden heads up and watching nesting birds as they flit back and forth across the garden. Then it promptly plummets again when I remember the allergy hell that awaits.

Popping a daily antihistamine helps a bit, but I also need to employ an arsenal of other, largely unchic, methods to keep the demon pollen at bay.

Such as wearing oversized, Bono-esque wraparound sunglasses to protect my eyes from the irritating powdery grains floating through the air.

I never quite know if I should be weeding the rockery or rocking out on the roof of The Clarence hotel.

Another favourite trick is to liberally apply Vaseline around my nostrils to trap pollen, creating a glistening sheen that looks like a slug has slithered across the philtrum area.

It always puts me in mind of former Scotland goalkeeper Jim Leighton who, in his 1980s and 1990s heyday, would slather a thick caking of Vaseline across both eyebrows to prevent sweat from running into his eyes.

I still blush remembering the afternoon when a fine dusting of biscuit crumbs and some errant dog hairs – my collie was shedding his winter coat – stealthily affixed themselves to the Vaseline blobbed beneath my nose.

In hindsight, my nostrils did feel tickly, but I put it down to some stray pollen having managed to circumnavigate the gloopy barrier. I chatted to two delivery drivers, a passing neighbour and did a video call, blissfully unaware that the biscuity, matted dog fur was stuck there, resembling a wonky slapstick moustache. Alas, these are the perennial perils and pitfalls of being a hay fever sufferer.

Recent times, however, have brought an added layer of anxiety. Even though allergy season comes around like clockwork, I have begun fretting that perhaps my sniffles and snotty beak are not down to hay fever, but something more sinister.

These fears have only intensified in the past week with news that a raft of friends and work acquaintances – many of whom successfully avoided catching Covid over the past two years – have been laid low with the virus.

It feels like being the archetypal baddie in an action thriller who, when a longstanding nemesis bursts through the door, accepts their imminent fate with a resigned sigh, saying: “I knew that you would come for me one day …”

Crossing paths with Covid seems somewhat inevitable at this stage, but that doesn’t mean I want to catch it any more than I want to have flu or one of those gruesome vomiting bugs that is akin to an angry monster clawing its way out of your gastrointestinal tract.

I have enough on my plate. We all do.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, my under-nose Vaseline blockade needs topped up.