Day 11 Mosquitoes

I grew up in an idyllic, Welsh, market town called Barry. With its windswept beaches and rolling hills, it was the perfect place for a young dreamy boy to start out on his journey of life. One of my abiding but hazing memories of the summer in Barry was of the yearly Jazz Band parade. I can’t really remember what Jazz Bands were but they certainly weren’t the New Orleans style quartets with clarinet, trumpet, trombone and double bass that I listen to now. They were marching bands I suppose that involved women dressed in strange costumes twirling batons while men followed playing instruments, (maybe women played instruments too but I was mesmerised by the short skirts and twirling batons.) I can’t remember all the instruments there were but the one that sticks in my mind was the Kazoo. Now the Kazoo is apparently a musical instrument but that is an oxymoron because there was nothing musical about them at all. Have you ever put tracing paper over a comb and blown a tune? Well that is what a Kazoo sounds like. They are probably my second least favourite instrument after the bagpipes. Why am I telling you this? Well I spent last night being entertained by three stealth mosquitos. Invisible to the human eye, they buzzed around my body while I lay there desperate for sleep to come. So loud were they that at one stage I put the light on half expecting to see three Welsh youths with kazoos in their mouths marching around my bed, but there were no sign of the youths and no sign of those pesky mozzies. At the end of this Jazz Band parade in Barry all of the bands assembled in Romily Park for some food and drink and general merriment. Well obviously my leg is a mosquito version of Romily Park and after a night spent marching and playing the mozzies were pretty peckish and got stuck in to their buffet - my ankle. I suppose I should be thankful for small mercies. At least the mozzies didn’t have bagpipes.
 Anyway if you are still not sure what a kazoo is here is a really daft video.