Whilst training on Tueaday, I picked up a nasty horsefly bite. Or rather bites. I didn’t experience the pointy end of that ‘orrible little bug once. Oh no. The vicious thing dined out on me 5 times. Yes. 5 times, leaving mounds of swollen flesh, reddened and maddeningly itchy. At some sub-conscious level there was an awareness that a beastie was dining out. I distinctly remember trailing an arm and wafting it around like a donkey’s tail as my brain slowly cottoned on to the danger. But it was plainly not enough. The only thing the horsefly understands is the swat, the spray or the newspaper.
From now on I’m keeping from the moors and the heathland and sticking to the woods or lofty mountain tops. It’s a bloody jungle out there.