Under the weather
Sniff, sniff, sneeze, sneeze, cough, splutter, gulp. These are the sounds currently providing a backdrop for our working day as customers call in to the shop to pick up brochures and to generously spread their germs.
Many of them have come direct from the clinic at the end of the road where the flu vaccines are being administered. Our place seems to be the first port of call as the newly vaccinated decide they would like to be somewhere sunny for the winter months.
I’ve started to compile a list of their priorities: warmth is obviously top, but then comes ballroom dancing, followed by bridge, bowls and English-speaking medical staff.
According to the sums presented to me by one couple, it is still cheaper for pensioners to travel abroad than to stay at home and pay for central heating and a recent ‘Holiday Cost of Living’ survey bears this out.
Its cheapest destination, however, was Goa, rather than the Spanish and Portuguese resorts our older folk are so fond of, and I’d hazard a guess that there isn’t a great deal of bridge to be played there.
One couple who sneezed their way into the shop told us it was their first chance to see us since their return from Sorrento in October. They’d had a lovely holiday, marred only by the thinness of the hotel room walls.
“I’m all for romance,” said the woman, “but I don’t want to hear it with digital clarity through wafer-thin divides!”
She went on to add that they had both caught colds.
“I think we got them from the flight,” her partner said, “because they’re constantly recirculating stale air and other people’s infections.”
“That may all be set to change,” I replied with all the authority that comes from one who has read the Sunday papers from front page to back. “Apparently, the airline industry has commissioned a study into filtering the onboard airflow system and adding an antibacterial substance originating from bees. Who knows, maybe inflight airborne infections will become a thing of the past.”
“How long’s that going to take?” asked the chap. “And who’s going to pay for it? They’ll pass the costs on to us. They’ll lose a few seats to make way for the air-conditioning unit and we’ll all be charged a supplement for the sanitised air. We’ll literally be paying for the air we breathe!”
“If it’s cheaper to catch the cold would that be your preferred solution?” I asked, before suggesting he put his complaints into writing and dose himself up with a whisky and hot lemon.
“I can’t afford whisky,” he retorted grumpily.
“Well then, perhaps you could share a Lemsip with your wife?”
The woman glared at me. “I am not his wife,” she said emphatically. Who said romance was dead!
A rubber solution
On a similar theme, another client phoned me with panic in her voice.
“Should I get some latex gloves?” she asked. I was stumped for a moment, wondering what could be at the root of her call.
She hadn’t looked like a rubber fetishist when she’d come in to book her cruise some months before, but who’s to say what a rubber fetishist looks like in the hours of daylight?
“I’m sorry,” I said, “what would you need latex gloves for?”
“Because of the norovirus!”
It turned out she had heard there had been some instances of winter vomiting on board the ship she was set to sail on at the weekend.
“I’m terrified of catching it,” she said. “I’m no good around people who are throwing up. I don’t want to pick up the germ from any door knobs on the ship so I thought latex gloves would be best.”
“It would certainly be one way to minimise the risk,” I agreed.
“And the other is to make sure you thoroughly steam oysters. Do you think the chefs know that?”
“I’m sure the kitchen staff and crew are aware of the best ways to avoid transmission,” I said, “and you mustn’t let your anxieties spoil your trip. The latex gloves might be a little over the top, though, and could give people the wrong idea.”
She looked at me dubiously. “You’re right. They might think I’m a nurse and I don’t want to attract the sick and afflicted. Perhaps I’ll just take some alcohol gel.”
“Alcohol,” I said, “always the best solution.”
Maureen Hill works at Travel Angels, Gillingham, Dorset
