It’s a beautiful sunny day, 20+C, no wind, few clouds and I’m laying on the trampoline. Chilling. Minding my own business. When a bee comes buzzing round my head. I swipe at it, as one does. Several times. Before it hones in and a split second before I can connect and knock it out, it lands it’s arse right on the side of my neck. Leaving it there. Sticking out like a tiny little spear.
Dodging all the stuff that suddenly appeared in my way, I managed to get inside without further injury, while the dog looks on perplexed, choice words being all I can manage.
A quick check in the mirror to see the bite location, grabbing a tissue and then carefully extracting the bee’s bum from my neck.
The relief was almost instant. A dab of cream and I’m all good. The little bugger died. I tried to warn it. But it was determined to get me.
Well, I was all good until mr 15 says ‘what bee sting?’ and pokes right on it this evening. Not impressed at all. That hurt.
the little bugger who decided I was the mortal enemy.
The nice surprise?
One of my neighbours had some protea for sale at the end of the road. Several times I drove past today, and thought how pretty they looked, I’d buy a couple later. I never got the chance. On phoning home this evening while out on an errand, I was informed there were two bunches of flowers left in our mailbox (it’s quite large so they weren’t squashed).
If/when I find out who it was I will definitely find a way to pay them. They are simply beautiful and it was a lovely surprise at the end of the day.
Gorgeous flowers. Now placed front and centre in my entry hall
