Insects

By 3.30 this afternoon I realised the uncharacteristically sunny day was in danger of slipping by without me taking advantage so I hopped on the mountain bike for a quick blast up to Rivington. I just got to the top of my village when a fly shot into my mouth and down my throat, rapid steer into the curb, off the bike, coughing, eyes streaming, drinking, hawking, spitting, you know the drill. Two workmen witness all this and stare at me like I'm weird. I regain my composure and continue.

I reach Georges Lane and I can feel something sharp inside my shirt. I try pedalling along with my hand down the front of my shirt to see if I can remove what I assume is just a thorn from brambles. Oh, wait, bramble thorns don't wriggle, oh shit, that's something biting me. With arm still inside shirt I'm veering into a fence. Abandon bike, rucksack off, shirt half off, fuck, fuck, fuck, it's still there and biting. Oh, God, black thing with death pincers located half into sports bra, I catch it and throw it away from me with suitable eeeuuurrrggghhh noise. Look up to see two walkers staring at me like I'm weird. I regain my composure and dignity and clothing and continue.

Approaching school climb. Something small and buzzy whips round the frame of my sunnies, zooms into my eye and adheres itself to my eyeball. As a contact lens wearer debris in the eye is doubly unpleasant as it's quite hard to just blink stuff free. Stop in the middle of the trail, glasses off, gloves off, poking at my own eye making strange noises, muttering and swearing. Obvious school teacher with briefcase approaches, a little warily, as I am clealry weird, to make sure I am OK. Yes, yes, yes, just something in my eye. I regain my composure. Decide at this point not to continue and head for home.

Insects 3, Rider 0.