Yesterday evening I got my first midge bites of the season. It’s the curse of Scottish summers. The sun finally comes out and you’re bitten to pieces. We were at the next village along from ours and that’s where I think I was got. Big Dreamer says I’m sensitive to midges bites but I prefer to regard myself as particularly delicious.
The reason we were out and about being bitten was in aid of the annual village duck race and barbecue. Down a little lane beside the village hall is a barn in a field and at the end of the field a bridge crosses the river, marking the finishing line for the ducks. The barn housed the barbecue and an especially fine cake stall. Most of the village children were already in the river, clad in wetsuits (yes, even in June – this is Scotland!), awaiting the arrival of the ducks who are released upstream. We purchased our duck and some raffle tickets from another stall before making our way over to the barbecue. Little Owl could barely contain her excitement at the splashing children and the blue plastic ducks. Sadly, this and a marshmallow treat from the cake stall seemed to finish her off and we ended up leaving before the culmination of the race with a very tired and mildly hysterical four year old. Needless to say, she was out like a light once we got home.
Big Dreamer and I settled down in the lounge to watch the slow unwinding of the evening. A swathe of soft rain darkened the northern half of the sky while the southern portion peacefully glowed with dying light. It was beautiful.