Summer in Ireland is generally three things:
- Inclement
- Fierce close
- And laden with pollen as far as the eye can see
Our pollen count is as high as the day is long, and our little noses simply can't hack it.
God bless them.
But at least we can all bask in the truth knowing that we're most certainly not alone...
1. Summer begins
2. You await three months of utter torture
At least.
3. The whole world becomes your tissue
4. Your skull becomes a battlefield
5. Yet you stride on
6. And attempt to go on with your normal day
7. Until you swiftly realise that everything you own is covered in tears and snot
8. And you curse the day pollen was invented
9. Your colleagues grimace in fear
Suggesting you take your diseased body elsewhere.
Pricks.
10. And then you get weepy because your life is shit and you have consistently leaked for days
11. And then the tears bring more mucus
12. And then it's a weird crying/sneezing mess that makes you sort of feel like you wish you were dead
13. And then the medicine kicks in
14. And all is right with the world once more
15. Until...
16. It all begins once more
17. And you begin praying for Winter
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