The Gene Kelly Strain

It makes you realise just how tough some actors were. Remember Gene Kelly, trotting around in the downpour? I wonder if they heated the water up before filming so that he didn't catch a cold. I know it sounds silly, but they could have set up a tanker run from some hot springs somewhere or other and turned one of the Buzby Berkelely sets into a temporary storage reservoir before using Nellie the Elephant and friends to spray it into the air on a parabolic trajectory. Knowing Hollywood there would even have been lighting to ensure there was a rainbow.

No such luck here in Wiltshire, where the rain has been intermittently persistent. I say intermittent, because I kept realising that it had stopped, and persistent because as soon I went outside with a saw and began to cut up the drier pieces of wood, it rained again. After three days of this, I woke up with a burning nose and percussive sneezing.

At least I have the sneezing. It is one of my top pleasures. I can understand the appeal that snuff had during the Seventeen Hundreds, although I believe that sneezing while taking it was as frowned on as it is today while snorting other stuff. Lack of self control, you see, showing lack of social graces. When LP found an old snuffbox in a box of auction goodies I had to try a pinch, much to her disgust. Sadly, I didn't get the sneeze I was hoping for either, just an ear-bashing from a Geordie who's never smoked and has no understanding of those who do or did.

Of course, the sneezing is just a by-product, the real reason for taking snuff is to get a nicotine hit. I did try using snuff once when I thought I ought to try and control my cigarette habit. I was wandering through Lapland at the time, and noticed these little round tins with "Snus" written on them, so I started sticking the odd pinch of it up my nose.

I didn't get any sneezes out of it at all. All I got was a burning sensation in my nose, and eyes that streamed so much I had to get on the bike and pedal like crazy to blow the moisture away so I could actually see the world around me. After a few more failed attempts to get a sneeze or two from the stuff I gave up and let the tin stay in the bag. Only an idiot would stick that stuff up their nose, I grumpily told myself.

Later, an American cyclist I met up with put me wise. I had spread out some of the contents of a bag to sort, and he spotted the tin of Snus.

"Can I try a pinch of that?" he asked. I told him he could have the whole tin, and watched to see how tough he would turn out to be.

He took some and rubbed it on his gums.

"Why did you do that?" I asked.

"It's like chewing tobacco, but you don't need to chew it," he said. "Don't be fooled by the name on the tin, only an idiot would stick this stuff up their nose."

I didn't tell him I had tried chewing tobacco once and had ended up almost vomiting the filthy brown stuff onto the ground. I couldn't be an actor, not even one with a bit-part sitting on a porch in a rocking chair and making the spittoon chime. And you can forget about dancing through pouring rain with an umbrella, too.