Is hysteria more infectious than swine flu?

Turning round to identify the source of the hubbub, I was slightly taken aback to see about 30 elderly nuns filing onto the platform behind me.

It wasn’t the fact that they were nuns that arrested my attention - although I have to admit there’s something about the ‘uniform’ that always makes me steal a second, speculative glance - no, I was more galvanised by the fact that they were all wearing face masks to guard themselves from the rampantly infectious swine flu microbes presumably multiplying by the millions in the ducts of the Piccadilly line’s ancient and inefficient air-conditioning system.

Noticing my interest, one of the nuns stepped forward and thrust a map under my nose. In perfect, but heavily accented English, slightly muffled by the expanse of paper mask that stretched from just beneath the rim of her glasses to the tip of her chin, she politely asked if South Kensington was the right stop for the V&A Museum, where she and the sisters were planning to visit the recent Baroque exhibition.

Stifling the ignoble thought that taking a bunch of Italian nuns to a London museum to see an exhibition about the Baroque was pretty much like taking coals to Newcastle, I leaned down (she was even smaller than me!) pointed out the station on her Tube map and explained that once they arrived at South Kensington it was quite easy to navigate the way to the V&A because it was clearly signed.

She was very grateful and once we were all aboard the next train, she continued to nod and smile at me, well, her eyes crinkled behind the specs and over the mask, until I waved goodbye at Holborn.

The last thing I heard as I left the train was the petulant voice of a small boy: “I don’t want to sit there mum. Those ladies are scary.”

I couldn’t help but agree with him. The sight of all those masks was definitely unsettling and a nasty reminder that as far as the rest of Europe seems to be concerned, London is the tourist equivalent of a swine flu microbe Petri-dish at the moment.

The sisters of safety aren’t the only masked people I’ve encountered recently in the capital. Out on the streets and especially in the packed and fetid corridors of the Underground, the sight of someone - usually a foreign visitor - with a white paper surgical mask tied around their head is far from uncommon.

I can’t help thinking that this is taking things a bit far.

I’m sure this is a very nasty and virulent virus and I sympathise with anyone who has suffered a bout recently, but, as far as I can tell, despite the very best efforts of the media to scare us all witless, it doesn’t exactly seem to be up there with the Black Death, does it?

I can definitely detect a hint of what practically amounts to disappointment in some quarters of the press that swine flu is not, at present, stalking the land like the Grim Reaper with a snout and pink curly tail.

Obviously there have been some fatalities - and my heart truly goes out to the families affected - but from what I’ve read so far, it seems that those who have died also suffered from other conditions or congenital weaknesses that left them horribly vulnerable to side effects and complications.

For the vast majority of us, if we are unfortunate enough at some point this year to contract swine flu, it seems pretty clear that unless you fall into one of the categories identified as a cause for concern, a few days off work, bed rest, more viewings of Deal or No Deal than you’d like to admit to and a constant supply of Lem Sip (Max Strength) will probably do the trick.

I’m writing from a position of some knowledge here. Earlier this year the 21-year-old son of one of my work colleagues came back from a holiday in Mexico. Despite stiff competition from a wide-brimmed sombrero and a pair of painted maracas, the most unpleasant souvenir he brought back with him was a mystery virus that wiped out his whole family for the best part of a fortnight.

This must almost certainly have been an early manifestation of swine flu and my colleague Jenny - his mum - immediately went into Florence Nightingale mode tending to her stricken husband and their other children, twin boys and a younger daughter.

Just as the rest of them were getting better, she went down with the virus herself.

“What was it like?” I asked when she was back at her desk a week or so later, expecting to hear a grisly litany of symptoms that left her feeling like she was knocking at death’s door.

“To be honest,” she said, “It was just like having a nasty head cold. I had a sore throat too and felt a bit ropey for several days afterwards. But, really, it didn’t feel any different from the usual winter flu - and not as bad as some.”

I recount this story because I think it’s helpful to point out that swine flu is not yet the new Ebola virus, despite the best efforts of some of the more jaded sectors of the media to present it that way.

Let’s face it, for the scaremeisters, swine flu provided a nice chewy sandwich filling between the recession and the MPs’ expenses crisis. And now we are in the news-becalmed, dog days of high summer, it’s back on the agenda again.

At the moment infection levels seem to be levelling off, but there are still darkly excited mutterings about a second wave hitting when the children go back to school in September. Some quarters seem to take a particular delight in highlighting the possibility of the virus mutating into something truly deadly.

Well, it’s good to be prepared and informed, but it’s also good to keep a sense of proportion. I was horrified to read that the recently established Pandemic helpline for Tamiflu supplies had been inundated with calls from people trying to stock up “just in case”. They weren’t actually ill, you understand, just frightened out their wits by all the doom-mongering.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the spectrum there are some people who are cynically using swine flu as an excuse to dodge work.

I was on my way into London on a train that went through to Brighton last week when I overhead a young man travelling with two of his friends make a mobile call to his office and actually plead swine flu as his reason for not making it in to his desk that day.

When he’d finished the call they all did a high five and laughed.

He might not have had swine flu, but he was certainly behaving like an ignorant pig.

...By the way, I've just read that in the remote town of Ziketan in the Qinghai province of China there's an outbreak of Pneumonic Plague. Now, that's really something to get masked up for!