Last time, if you recall, we'd stumbled upon our tropical paradise and were smugly settling in.
But, wherever you get lush green foliage, hibiscus hedges and palm trees aplenty, you also get the associated wildlife.
Some, like the giant black and white butterflies and the greater coucal birds (look it up) are a delight. The resort's phalanx of (mostly sleeping) guard dogs are ok too.
It's the mosquitoes and other biting pests that are the problem, particularly if you're prone to going outside in what is essentially your underwear.
The trouble seems to be that I'm irresistible to the little blighters. Their signature dish, or comfort food if you will.
My legs (admittedly never my best feature) now look like I'm wearing red polka dot trousers, and even JB has complained of a bite on his wrist. We've now applied so much DEET that we're in danger of contravening the Chemical Weapons Convention.
Still we're vowing to carry on regardless. We're British after all. And we're in Paradise.
Allegedly.......
PS: I know you won't bother looking up the greater coucal, so have this one on me:
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