Sometimes the bite really is worse than the bark...

When the latest furry addition to the clan comes to visit, Fiona watches from the window in fear of an invisible menace

Ido not know about you, but this week I have been well and truly midged. A combination of heat and rain brings the little blighters to life. They might be invisible, but they are definitely there – and they just love little old me. It is so unfair. The chief gets bitten and it is water off a duck’s back (or a pinprick on male skin). In my case, there is no doubting the attack. Great red lumps swell up and start to itch. At times they take several days to disappear. “Ah,” I hear you say, “Then he is a hardy Highlander and you stem from feeble Borderland stock.”

Or maybe not… Yes, the MacGregors were a pretty tough lot, but did I ever tell you the saying that the Armstrongs can start a fight in a phone box?!

Anyhow, clan rivalry aside, I further investigate and discover that the chief must have a ton of ketone in his body, for Mrs Midge – as she is the one likely to cause the damage – does not like this body chemical one bit.

Reading about “culicoides impunctatus” makes me think of all the anti-midge advice given over the years.

Take up smoking – rather drastic at my age, I feel. Light some citronella candles. Eat whole heads of garlic and masses of Marmite. And if anyone else suggests Avon’s Skin So Soft…

Mind, it is not just me. They reckon that Scottish tourism loses out on hundreds of millions of pounds each year because of the dreaded midgie. It is infuriating. Our must-see-ems being boycotted – and all because of those no-see-ems.

I am not alone, however. This week the MacNaughties also find themselves tormented. One afternoon we get another visit from the newest member of the Armstrong-MacGregor canine club.

Miss Chow Chow appears in the garden. That’s not her name by the way. But it’s what the MacGregor calls her, and it suits. DD – and that’s not her name, either, but she is a darling daughter – is dropping off supplies and showing us just how much her new dog has grown.

Delilah is a chow. She is barely six months old but already she is a big girl. And there she sits, on the lawn, waiting for some puppy fun. We let the MacNaughties out and there is a standoff.

There is barking and a bit of gentle growling on both sides.

Then, as children do, Delilah decides

Heat and rain bring the little blighters to life.They might be invisible, but they are definitely there – and they just love little old me

she wants to play. She hurtles towards the Norfolk terrier and bowls him over.

Rummie is knocked off his feet. He rolls down a grassy slope and lands unceremoniously on his back. It is not good for an old boy’s dignity.

There is more huffing and puffing and he limps back inside where a nice biscuit consoles. I watch all this from the window, because I have seen the swarms, and I have the scars. You might say, once bitten, twice shy…