Dying here

It's a quarter past eleven at night. Outside it's finally getting dark proper, just a faint glow on the horizon. The sort of evening when you want to go wandering in the hills just to listen to the sounds of the night animals. I've just taken the dogs out for their evening constitutional and put them to bed; once quickly around the garden with a torch and a sharp knife to get the slugs which just can't resist Barbara's Cardoons. But I couldn't stay out long.

Today was a beautiful sunny day from dawn til dusk. I could have taken my work outside and got me a nice bit of sunburn. But no.

For summer is the time of my greatest misery. My two greatest miseries. Midges and Hayfever.

Even Mortimer, the DevilDog, agreed that this evening was something special. He's scratching like a good'un and rubbing his face back and forth on the doormat just to get some relief from the tiny but persistent bloodsuckers. I can feel them crawling around in my hair as I type, and the computer screen has several bloody smears on it where I've hastened the end of some miserable wee beastie.

Meanwhile my nose is red and raw with repeated blowing and wiping. My sinuses feel fit to explode and my throat is hoarse with a thousand shouted sneezes. At one point this afternoon I went for a drive with the aircon on. I didn't have anywhere to go, but it's the only place I can get some relief from the torment. And that's after I've taken the drugs.

I love summertime, really. But could we have some rain now please? And a consignment of DDT?

Now I'm off to stick my head in the shower.