There are a quite a few disorders with evocative names like tennis elbow, tailor’s bunion, and vibration white finger. Though it sounds like it should fit it this category, I’m not including plumber’s butt in the list because the person afflicted with it is completely oblivious while the innocent bystanders suffer. And I’m not going to make a crack about that. (Yeah, okay, I couldn’t help it.)
Recently, though, I discovered another less serious but equally irritating affliction: soup nose. I’ve had it all my life, but thanks to my step-mom I’ve finally discovered its correct name.
Why is it that as soon as I eat something hot, my nose runs? After exhaustive research (with a couple of friends and a few cold beers), I’ve determined that this is a widespread, medically neglected phenomenon. And there’s no good way to deal with it politely.
In private, it’s easy. One good nose-honk and the problem’s solved, though I do have an unfortunate tendency to attract flocks of amorous Canada geese with that method.
But in polite company, what does one do? Fleeing the table to seek the necessary privacy for goose imitations isn’t always feasible. Then I have to fall back on the tissue-dabbing method, which, frankly, is annoying as hell. Not to mention conspicuous when I do it for the umpteenth time.
I was eating soup the other day when a burning question popped into my mind: Does the Queen get soup nose?
Think about it. Here’s a woman who’s lived all her life in the public eye. It’s not like she can jump up from the table at a state dinner and scuttle off to the loo for a good old nose-honk. But you never see her dabbing at her nose with a tissue.
I mean, really. Can you imagine the Queen harbouring a nasty little snot-soaked tissue stuffed up her sleeve like Grandma used to do? I’m pretty sure the Queen is above snot-soaked tissues.
So that leaves me with three possibilities:
- The Queen simply doesn’t get soup nose. It’s beneath her.
- Nobody ever serves the Queen anything hot. She eats all her meals cold or tepid. Or…
- Somebody has found a cure for soup nose!
In case one or two, I’m out of luck. Pretty much nothing’s beneath me, and cold / tepid just isn’t my style.
But… I live in hope that there’s a cure out there. Some miraculous drug or process by which I could actually stay seated for an entire hot meal. I haven’t been able to find it yet, but if you hear about anything, let me know.
And since I’m on this low-brow subject anyway, I’ll leave you with the following bit of doggerel left over from my childhood. I don’t know who the original author was, but I’ll credit them if I ever find out.
So you’re kissing with your honey
And your nose is kind of runny
And you think it’s kind of funny
But it’s snot.
Probably the author prefers to remain nameless…