What I've been thinking about:
- Chironomida
- (It's not an STD)
One of the things I notice when I'm walking the dog at this time of year is the abundance of flora and fauna. Pink and blue flowers are dotted along the edge of the cycle track in between the nettles and sticky willy and swallows dip over my head on their way to feed their chirruping young in nests under the eaves.
I'm unable to name most of the wildlife around here (although I'd probably be evicted if I couldn't recognise a sheep or cow by now). But there's one that any Scot knows in their first list of animals, along with being able to point at kittens, doggies and horses. And that's the aforementioned chironomida.
Look, doggies!
That's right, it's the wee biting b*****d that is the midge.
In true Presbyterian fashion, we can't have blazing, uninterrupted sunshine for over a week and just enjoy it. Oh no, we have to suffer lest we enjoy life in all its glory. (As if burning within five minutes of leaving the house wasn't enough).
Factor Duffle Coat
This year's midge is more keen than usual, buzzing about for far longer than is acceptable. For those lucky enough to be unfamiliar with the little blighter, it usually appears early in the morning and later in the evening but leaves us to enjoy the bulk of the day uninterrupted. Not this year. The 2023 edition has decided that it is mounting a hostile takeover for daytime as well.
I imagine them in their small but mighty midge army strategising about which watch each platoon will take to ensure maximum coverage (Ultravox playing in the background, naturally). When they're not sleeping (do midges sleep?) or biting, they're sharpening their weapons until they glisten in the light, ready for the next crusade.
A youngster flies into the officers' mess with news of casualties, squashed on a boilersuit by a hand bigger than any of them can imagine. The more experienced among them don't miss a beat (it means nothing to them). The new recruits will one day be that hardened, barely registering the daily reports of losses. They remain focused on one goal and one goal only: domination.
Anyone would think that the wee biting b******s are starting to affect my sanity. But I know the truth.
Our Saviour
