Savaged

Once again Hervor's life and mine have paralleled. While Hervor was off in the Goldfields attending the wedding of a friend, I was doing the same in Bunbury. Well a renewal of vows anyway (is that still classed as a wedding?).

However, the only other similarity was that I was home by midnight as well. But not only did I spend the intervening time with friends, but I also had the company of evil with wings; mosquitoes. They bit my arms. They bit my back. They bit through my hair to leave 1 doz calling cards. They bit my waist. And for chrissakes they even bit my navel!



I have woken scratching and bleeding. I have put several different 'relievers' on the bites and have now scratched not just the top but some of the surrounding skin off some of the bites.

If ever I go to war the only weapon I want on my side is mosquitoes...so long as they find the enemies blood as tantalising as they seem to find mine.

Why must I be irresistible to the wrong bloody things?

Now I just gotta hope I haven't managed to inherit a case of Ross River Virus.