The Lovely Son is here, looking fit and toned, and is ready to dig, bless him. Yesterday afternoon we went to the allotment bearing a huge and smelly bag of kitchen compost, saved up for a shamefully long time, and we did some work on the neglected pond and greenhouse. I seem to have allowed my little pond to turn into a malarial swamp. Something truly malevolent bit me on my wrists, five times, producing strange, oval, flat red marks, hot, itchy and misery-inducing. Nothing has helped; they are my punishment for being a Very Lazy Gardener. But I am allowing myself a very early night, and am going off now to lie in my cool bedroom, arms covered in tea tree and lavender cream, and try not to scratch my bites. Tomorrow I am gardening in long evening gloves, I think.