Little Vampires

I am one big, red, itchy, inflamed insect bite. I have been attacked by tiny winged devil bugs so many times in the past two days, there is barely an inch of flesh on my body that is not lumpy. I don’t know whether it is because the weather’s cooled down recently or if my blood’s just getting tastier, but there do seem to be a lot more biters around. It started on Sunday afternoon. We had been at the beach for a couple of hours without being bothered at all, when all of a sudden I started to notice little insects flying above me. They were tiny little things and appeared to be white – not your typical sandfly or mosquito – and they didn’t seem to be settling on us so I paid them little attention and returned to my book. Half an hour later and we both started to itch – on our ankles, arms, backs, sides. The sneaky little pests seemed to be landing just where we couldn’t see them – they were stealth biting. The onset of the midges seemed to occur as the tide went out so perhaps it was because, with the drawing back of the water, a greater area of sand was quickly unveiled. This obviously led us to conclude that the little blighters were probably sandflies, meaning that our bites would be itchier and look more unpleasant then other biters. Upon returning home, we discovered several bites and vowed never again to leave the bug spray at home.


Last night at Bootcamp, we added to our collection of bites. Or at least I did – The Husband avoided being midge food as he ducked out of the abs, bums, thighs and arms work on the ground. I had casually said out loud to him that I was slightly worried that I had left the hob on. I wasn’t really that concerned, it was just one of those ridiculous fears like thinking that you’ve forgotten to lock the door or turn the oven off – you know you have, you just worry that you haven’t because the consequences could be disastrous. It happens to me all the time but I just shrug it off and it always turns out that I was worrying for no reason. Maybe that’s just a female thing though, because The Husband immediately went into panic mode. “What?! Are you serious?? The house might be burning down as we speak! You’ll have to go home and check it out now!” When I told him not to be so silly, that I was sure it was a completely irrational thought and that there was no real reason to think that the hob was on, he insisted that if I wasn’t going to go, then he would have to. And so off he went, with his towel and his water bottle, to rush back to the car and speed off home. I think the real reason he scarpered was because he hates the floor work – he always pushes himself too hard during the running so that he can barely move by the time we get to the toning and muscle-building exercises. He’s the one that will be moaning and complaining and writhing around on the floor. “I can’t do any more, I just can’t,” is the usual breathless incantation to escape from his lips after the first set (or sometimes even during it).

Anyway, because he legged it straight after the running he avoided further blood-sucking, as it was at this point that I was practically eaten alive. Being down at ground level, they swarmed all over me and seemed to think my hair was some sort of a nest as many of them flew into it then got stuck and so bit me over and over again as some sort of punishment, as if I was intentionally trying to trap them. When the session was over, I stood up and could not stop scratching all over my head, around my neck, up my side (where one had flown up my top and got trapped, biting my four times before I realised what was going on and killed it) and across my lower back. The worrying thing was that this time I had remembered to cover myself with anti-bug spray. As I sit here, trying in vain to stop myself from furiously scratching my entire body, all I can think is that I’m going to have to get myself some stronger stuff, perhaps some of that ‘so much Deet you are in danger of blinding yourself’ spray – it may be pretty toxic but at least I won’t be walking round the house rubbing myself up against the door frames like a dog scratching his back. And I won’t look like one giant welt, which is definitely a plus.