It's not Spring, it's the first day of Winter. But I feel like it's Spring, and not because of joyous birth and hope and blossoms on the fruit trees, but because my eyes are itching and I feel like having a huge wheeze.
Unless you know me personally, you are likely unaware my domicile is adjacent to a large vacant block. The owners of said block decided to have someone attack it with a ride-on lawnmower this morning. Hey, I'd prefer that block be maintained over looking like an ominous snake-ridden jungle any day. But what's troubling me today is the block masquerades as a fennel plantation. I like fennel. I like aniseed-flavoured things. But what I don't like is that the mower has sent a heap of seeds airborne to land in my yard and pollute the damn place with fennel weeds everywhere (still, at least there will be some greenery in my yard should this happen). If you've ever tried to rid your yard of one of those weeds, then you will know it is an arduous and Sisyphian task requiring more than a weed fork and a little bit of effort. You find yourself wondering whether it might be worth hiring a pile driver to drill the fucking bulb out of the ground. Alternatively, sending out the call to see who has the appropriate ticket to handle explosives and might be available to blast those tenacious bloody things to smithereens, becomes an attractive notion.
The other side effect to the mowing is that I appear to be a tad sensitive to the fennel. Physically, not emotionally. If you knew what I've been going through, and if you read my last post, you'd be forgiven thinking I'm letting the fennel get to me, just like all the other aspects of my life. But no. As I mentioned before, my eyes are itching. But what happened first was a bout of sneezing. I was just sitting on my lounge, enjoying (well, not really) Sunrise and playing some game on my iPad. I was rostered to work today, but not until after lunch, so I had a kind of leisurely morning. Then it hit me like a blow from a wrecking ball. I started to sneeze and could not stop. I do not sneeze in a cute and lady-like fashion. I make a noise like a keening mad banshee coming through a wind tunnel, and come close to shattering the sound barrier. I sneezed so volubly my fox terrier jumped from my lap and took off through the house. I could not stop. I became concerned my nose would fly off, and I'd be noseless, kind of like Michael Jackson had he been a reasonably slender woman with very fair skin (hey, wait a minute...).
Yes, so it was a morning of misery. I thought it would be over once I was away from the fennel mushroom cloud. What a naïve dreamer I was. I was carrying out a domestic service and asked to use the vacuum cleaner. 'It's just there, love,' the owner told me, pointing to some clapped-out pile of machinery that looked like one of the more untrustworthy models of the second-hand droids being dealt by the Jawas in Star Wars (there was no Luke Skywalker in sight, cursed be my life!). I figured where the hose should fit, and crouched over the, the contraption and turned it on. To my dismay, a cloud of God-knows-how-old dust flew from some opening at the top and right into my fennel-vexed face. This did not make me feel any better.
So I am home again, and the house smells like those old Black Cat lollies. Again, I like fennel flavoured food. I am just not enjoying hay fever symptoms.
Tomorrow, I must write a bio on myself. Not for the upcoming Howling on A Concrete Moon. That's been done and sent to the publisher. No, I've been invited to partake in the Scone Literary Festival, which will take place at Scone (yeah, shocking, I know) in November. My role will be on a panel regarding young adult and children's literature. I'm delighted and looking forward to it. Also have to submit a headshot. I can do this on my iPod and email it, but I might have to take the shot somewhere where I will not be reacting to flying fennel seeds - a scourge on par with Flying Monkeys. I'd like to look slightly presentable in the picture, and not like a swollen-eyed freak.
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