Call me Sneezy


posted by sooyup on , ,

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I was born and raised in a heavily-industrialised suburb of Liverpool, where the only greenery was in the local park, where we played a rough-and-tumble war-game we called football. The only flowers I came across were dandelions and similar weeds, and the flowering privet around my grandmother’s tiny patch of garden (which I noticed made me sneeze). Even in the grander parks where Emma Jane and I misbehaved, there were precious few cultivated flowers, easily avoided. But when Emma and I married, we lived with her parents in Liverpool’s most fragrant garden suburb. It was only then that I learned just how debilitating hay-fever can be. I was particularly affected by lupins - Emma’s mother’s favourite bloom. Perhaps this was a deliberate choice on her part, who knows? Nowadays, we can avoid most of the triggers, but there is one very odd reminder. For some inexplicable reason, whenever I was on the point of saying something sexy or provocative to my young wife (e.g. “Suck it, you bitch!”) I would sneeze. Damned inconvenient. And it still happens.

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