When the bugs all get you

Summer means a lot of things happen, some good, some bad. The heat can fall into either of these categories depending on how you view it and how miserable it makes you. One thing that is a universal annoyance in the hotter months of the year, however, is bugs-the biting, flying itching kind, and some people seem to suffer a lot more badly with them than others.


As you may have guessed from the title of this blog post, I fall into the latter category, and there is not enough Deet or Avon Skin-So-Soft in the world to save me. Anyway, while I am used to the bugs all getting me on the regular anyway, on one particularly hot, sunny day earlier this month, it all kicked up a notch to the point that literally everything got me all in the same day, like something out of The Mummy.

The day started off ok-I got dressed, had my coffee and attempted to get off the boat, which involves untacking the rain cover on the back first, which sits about a foot above head height. As I untacked the cover and threw it back, a large, pincer-y earwig fell directly down my dress into my armpit, and I of course started scrabbling about and swearing to try to get it out-which only served to make the thing fall into my bra, ffs, which resulted in a hell of a lot more screaming, effing and blinding and stripping off to get it out.



I got dressed again and finally got off the boat, and headed out to the caff where I do the larger part of my work, sitting outside on my laptop under a parasol. I even have my own parasol in the café too, which lives in the umbrella stand and that I put up on my table of choice each day.

So I got my parasol, clipped it to my table and put it up, and kicked my shoes off to start working. At this point, I glanced up at the underside of the parasol to spot a big, fat speckly spider dashing about over my head, which resulted in a chair-kicking-over panic to get out from under it before it got me, which in turn left me dancing barefoot on the cooking hot concrete.

As I went dancing into the café for help, I spotted another giant fat speckly spider scuttling around on the outside of the parasol too. I could not stand still because the floor was so hot, but burnt soles were obviously highly preferable to going back under the parasol for my shoes, so I danced my way into the café and started shouting about All Of The Spiders.


Nobody came to help me until I yelled that my feet were burning and I needed a grown-up, when another or the patrons that I know relatively well came out to help me, muttering about it being just one tiny little spider, to which I smartly replied that it was TWO, and so obviously totally justified.

I got back to work and nothing else came at me for a couple of hours, until I brushed a couple of flying ants off my leg a littler later on, and then saw that the air around me was thick with them-and they were all crawling out of the large planter next to me, where their nest had just exploded or birthed or been teleported up from hell, or whatever it is that happens to make flying ants appear.


At this point (is it on me? I feel like it’s on me) I gave up and went home, and sat outside of boat working away and getting bitten to death by the usual stealth creepy things that don’t seem to affect you until a few hours later, when you ultimately break out in hives.

Oh, and the next day I had to remove a wasp’s nest from the roof of the café, because the café lad was too nesh to do it himself.


That’s me done for the year, back to winter please kthanksbye.

Lady Gothique
The gal who runs

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