Every bloody year around this time my allergy returns. It doesn't make me sneeze (yet), it just incapacitates my hands: my fingers start to dry up and crack and I can barely move them. When you're a pianist, this has certain disadvantages, particularly when you still have a stack of music to learn for upcoming projects. The only solution is to keep your hands clean and moist with hypoallergenic cream and, if possible, not move your fingers. Great. Only part of that is possible. You have to avoid vile cream soap, which is also not particularly easy when you're not at home, so you end up carrying a travel dish of vegetable soap around with you. I do need some more cream, though, so I'l pick some up on my way to work this afternoon.
Bizarrely, I'm apparently allergic to my own perspiration. Despite the excellence of its health service, only in France could you be diagnosed as being clinically averse to work.