It's back. Not three months after the last attack I am once again host to an overly theatrical allergic reaction to an insect bite.

On Monday night as I lay in bed I heard the unmistakable high-pitched shriek of a mosquito fly past my ear. Furious, and half asleep, I struck out in the direction of sound and pounded myself about the ears several times before settling back down to sleep, the ache in the side of my face assurance that I must have got him.

The next morning, however, I spotted him languishing on the wall, too gorged and heavy to fly away. I picked up a slipper, which has seen a heavy death toll this summer, and splatted the greedy monster all the way back to its maker. It's October, for goodness sake. Where did it come from?

By Tuesday afternoon itchy bite marks had appeared on the side of my face and on my nose (nose!) and by Wednesday morning I was back in yellow-blister territory. I won't go into further detail but so horrified was I at my own reflection in the mirror that I called in sick at work and crawled back into bed to swear out loud and try not to touch my face.

I spent the following two days housebound, listening to the radio, reading, staying in bed, and periodically looking at my nose in the mirror for prolonged periods. In the evening my sister called and demanded a look over the webcam and had such sympathetic words as "Eerrghhh! That's disgusting! Do you feel like a witch woman?!"

As I swallowed another antihistamine, feeling as attractive as the Elephant Man on a bad-hair day, I thanked God that the love of my life, who is the most handsome and good-looking man I have ever been lucky enough to share a sauna with and has never looked less than completely gorgeous apart from once when he had his hair cut really short, is doing an Outdoor Thing with his friend Ridders in the Dolomites and isn't witness to my facial plague. Small mercies.

I told him over the phone.

"Oh God, again?! Jesus! Ridders, listen to this!"

"I'm glad you're not here to see it."

"You'll have to take a photo for me, I can't miss this!"

"No way! It's horrible. It's on my face. It'll turn you off me sexually."

"Of course it won't! Please. For me."


He absolutely insisted. I think he's starting a collection.