As regular readers of my blatherings will be aware, I often enjoy a morning constitutional. As is my wont, I set off this morning up the beach. As I was meandering and perambulating in a southerly direction towards Gibraltar Point, I suddenly became aware that I was itching all over but particularly on my face. I then discovered the cause of the itching, the means of the irritation: THUNDER FLIES.
Now I really hate these little irritating black, shiny irritants. They "do me bean in" to use the modern vernacular. Apologies to those of you who may belong to the Thunder Fly Appreciation Society and like to celebrate Thunder Fly Day on an annual basis, I am sure there must be some in this wacky world in which we live, but the only good thunder fly is a dead one. They really are the creatures that have nothing of any worth to recommend them.
So there I was, walking along, much more quickly, being violated by these horrendous little insects. I was wiping my face more than that, up until now, disappointing Wee Andy Murray would be doing if he played tennis in a sauna, but still suffering their attentions. The quicker I went, the warmer I got and the more the little blighters irritated me.
Then all of a sudden: blessed relief. They had disappeared as quckly as they had come. A light southerly breeze had sprung up and blown them all away. One more Murrayesque wipe of the face, thank God I had decided to carry my T-Shirt whilst I topped up my tan, and I was, once again, on my way with the ability to enjoy my walk restored. Alls well that ends well.
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