Bless you.

Day 1 - Place is looking pretty good right now, the winter has been okay, and looks like it’s not going to cut out too early. Next time I’m in town I’d better stock up on antihistamines, there’s a faint itch in the air already.

Day 3 - Doing a paddock tour while inspecting sheep. The wild radish is flowering nicely. Never did get to town.  Funny how the radish flowers block the radiator but not my nose. That’s running freely.

Day 4 - Going to town. Last night in bed elbowed Gemma’s head as I scratched my nose while asleep.  Need drugs and need them now. And an icepack. And flowers.

Through a haze of tears and snot explain to the young counter girl at the pharmacy that while the packet does say 24 hour relief, past years have proven that to be a furphy. Mildly annoyed when she refuses to sell me three different types of antihistamines at once.

After doing three separate runs into three separate chemists now know what it feels to be a meth maker seeking pseudoephedrine.

Day 5 - As usual, takes a few days for the drugs to kick in. While waiting, spend most the days walking around saying “Ghnnnng hnggghh ghhnnng” as I try to make the inside of my skull vibrate to stop the itch that is living there.

Day 7 - Have formulated the routine. One twenty four hour tablet with breakfast coffee.  If brain not required after lunch, one six hour-do-not-operate-machinery tablet at lunchtime, then one twenty four hour tablet at dinner, while snorting nasal spray like a certain WA based footy team snorts white powder. If brain is required, suffer, but whinge, bitch and moan about it until sent home in disgust.

Day 8 - Gone around the house with roll of duct tape. Only one door now opens and this place is sealed up like a NASA airlock.

Day 10 - Getting mower ready for hay cutting. If there is one thing more irritating than freshly mown radish, ryegrass and Patterson’s Curse flowers, it’s twelve month old, dusty, powdery mown radish, ryegrass and Patterson’s Curse flowers. Taken wire brush to back of throat. Didn’t work.

Day 13 -  Checking sheep again. Have had to carry packet of wet towel wipes in ute to clean the inside of windscreen after each explosive sneeze. Must look like a heavy metal fan head-banging to a silent tune to anyone watching.

Day 15 - Mowing. It’s not too bad in the tractor cab. Sealed, filtered air-conditioning and I’ve got the throat lozenges and nasal spray, and so long as I don’t have to get out its all good. This should be fairly………. why did the mower just make loud bang and is now rattling? Turn radio up.  Can still hear the rattle, which is actually more of a heavy clunking. Probably should get out and look.

Day 16 - Pulling the mower to bits, which is now covered in freshly cut chaff and midgies. Mechanic comes out to help, and upon seeing my tears he assures me it’s not that bad, and I’ll be mowing by the next day. Try to explain its only  allergies, but I think us blokes cry wolf too often with that one. He doesn’t believe me.

Day 17 - Mowers fixed and back operating again. Drugs staring to slow me down a bit. Decide that the inspiration for slow moving drooling zombies in movies came from a dosed up hayfever patient.

Day 20 - Getting hay baler ready. Refer to getting mower ready entry, but with added hay chaff.

Day 25 - Baling. Trying to thread the twine through the baler’s bowels while holding my breath and keeping eyes closed. May have failed miserably, as seemed to have threaded it through the PTO shaft by mistake.

Day 27 - While baling seriously brainstorming ways of eliminating the requirements for pollen. Things start to get a bit freaky and decide to leave it alone.  Blame combination of drugs and freaky Twitter mates.

Midnight, most nights  -  Gemma wakes me for fear that I am driving my index finger so far up my nose while sleeping I am in real danger of literally being in touch with my sub conscious.

Day 28 - Baling again, this time onto small squares. Less said the better, as the one of the knotters develops dementia and refuses to tie off properly. These things are called idiot cubes for good reason. Have also fitted a bottlebrush to cordless drill for the ear itch.

Day 30 - 11.30pm. Last bale rolls out of the machine. Am going into self imposed lockdown until the winds settle and the pollens dry out. Index finger has become alarmingly muscled and nostril slightly more flared. While in quarantine will start drawing up legal proceedings against the large pharmaceutical companies who claim 24 hour relief. But need to make until the zombie drugs are out of the system. Bless you.