Mosquito magnet

After dropping hints and promises, summer made a glorious appearance today. My to do list went out the window as I made the most of the sunshine, including a long walk, coffee and newspapers, reading a book while sitting in my hammock swing, a few hours attacking the garden and truckloads of washing. Ahhhh.

While buried in the garden (not how it sounds), I made a few discoveries: a lavender bush that we didn't even know was planted outside our window, an almost-dead plant with rotten branches that fell apart in my hands, a 5 cm layer of sand in the drains and a number of creepy crawlies scurrying out from under rocks after their homes had been disturbed. (You can tell I'm not a gardener; all this is novel for me.)

And then I was reminded that it really is summer. If there's one thing that's synonymous with summer for me, it is mosquito bites. Somehow I manage to block this from my consciousness during the year and am always shocked at the first itch before it all comes rushing back.

You see, I am the ultimate mosquito magnet. For as long as I can remember, mossies have sought me out for a quick snack and seem to revel in telling all their friends that I'm both tasty and have skin exposed. Actually, I've been bitten through my clothes before ... and through sheets in bed, or through the teensiest gap in my inesct repellent shield. I have scars on my lower legs and feet from where I have scratched myself to bleeding point and the scabs won't heal - sometimes in my sleep without even realising it.

I've heard it all: "you must be sweet", "they must like your blood", "don't wear shorts/t-shirts/bare feet" (all summer??), "Brand X is the only one that works", and "well, I'm not being bitten" (which is usually followed by a disbelieving look as I madly start scratching for no apparent reason). It's enough to drive me itching mad!

Are you a mosquito magnet, or do these bloodsuckers pass you by?