I'm suffering from a bit of a cold as I write this, and sustaining myself with a hot mug of industrial-strength lemon drink, writes Frank McNally
But "bit of a cold" does not adequately describe the experience. So, as always on these occasions, the temptation is to upgrade the condition - if anyone asks - to the flu.
The story would stand up, more or less. The flu season started earlier than the pantomimes this year. In fact, it has been up and running since October - unlike other years, when those pesky health surveillance people have undermined thousands of sick-call alibis by insisting, as late as January, that no cases of the virus had been identified here yet.
On the other hand, a slight weakness in my attempt to stand the story up is that I can stand too. But even that could be turned to advantage. A standard ploy among experienced hypochondriacs, when thus challenged, is to assume a martyred expression and agree that, yes, the condition would render a lesser person horizontal. The listener can then feel free to admire the sheer strength of will that is keeping the sufferer upright.
It's not enough at these times to feel sorry for yourself. You need others to feel sorry too. And the sad fact is that, in this inflation-affected market-place, a cold buys you nothing any more. Not even a bad cold, which is the largest unit of the currency available.
In the absence of a credible viral condition that, while not the flu, is definitely worse than a cold, a sort of grey market has opened up around the concept of "flu-like symptoms". But there is no identifiable brand-name between the two best-known respiratory conditions. So if it's a choice between that hoary old myth, "I'm dying with a cold" (which is always a pathetic lie), and "I think I'm coming down with the flu", most of us will opt for the latter.
Part of the flu's appeal, when you don't have it, is its name. Even the short version sounds dramatic. But the full term - influenza - has a mysterious quality. It sounds more like a school of Renaissance painting, or a secret religious organisation, than a respiratory illness. And in its origins, as the Italian word for "influence", it dates from a time when the flu was indeed a mystery, ascribed to astrological causes.
Influenza got its name because it was thought then to be the result of the "flowing in" of unspecified ethereal fluids. It is therefore ironic that the concept of "influence" - and of being under it, in particular - is such a popular Irish euphemism for alcohol. But I suppose this is part of the national state of denial. Better to attribute your headache and queasiness to the flowing in of an unspecified amount of ethereal fluid than to the several litres of non-ethereal stuff you had last night.
It is the Italians - or at any rate the ancient Romans - whom we must also thank for the feast of Saturnalia, now known as Christmas. But to the Romans this was more than the time of revelry and conspicuous consumption it remains today. There was an added element, lost to the modern world, of large-scale role reversal, during which slaves changed places with their masters and authority could be openly mocked without fear of retribution.
Saturnalia was and is the festival of fools. (Indeed, the cold I'm suffering is the result of my own modest contribution to this year's foolishness, when I walked home from the office party the other night without an overcoat.) Romans often elected a sort-of "lord of the fools" to lead the frolics.
The idea survived into the middle ages, when - according to Brewers Dictionary- a "King of Misrule" or "Abbot of Unreason" was appointed to preside over Christmas festivities, even at royal courts. It is to this ancient tradition we nod when we pull a cracker at the office party and then put on the crepe paper crown we find therein.
That's if we do put it on, of course. Like the Mexican wave at a football match, the party hat is beneath the dignity of some people. Just as the wave is becalmed when it hits the VIP section - drawing boos from the rest of the stadium - the paper crown tends not to be embraced by the more serious sections of the office population.
Conversely, the fun types pride themselves on wearing their hats. Indeed, if you arrive late at the party and have a choice of tables, a high hat quotient can be a reliable guide to the location of the best atmosphere. But if you haven't had your party yet, it might be worth reflecting a moment on the historic significance of the paper crown.
Back in ancient Rome, the Lord of Misrule was immune from authority for the duration of Saturnalia. Then his reign ended and the traditional powers took over again. Whereupon, one of the first things they did, sometimes, was to slaughter the deposed lord, in honour of Saturn. That's just something to think about this week as you try your paper hat on. Otherwise, enjoy the party.