Commencement to this wonderful Monday morning saw me being stung by a bee. The attack took place at 8:00am in the palm of my right hand (towards the thumb) whilst I was on a motorcycle heading for a two-hour trip back to Athens to go straight to work (the culprit was never seen by the victim but a search is out for a perp having the following description: approx. one inch long, yellow and black stripy body, wings, bad temper and missing sting). I’ve never been stung before and it had naively crossed my mind that I may get to go through life without ever experiencing it.
For whatever reason (bee it that I heroically saved a bumble bee drowning in the pool yesterday by providing a little life raft in the form of a leaf which it climbed on and I dragged out to safety; bee it that I re-christened one of the characters in my book “Bea”; bee it that I removed a wasp nest from my balcony door by way of a plastic supermarket bag and a broomstick), bees seem to have dominated my week resulting (unfairly, in my opinion) in me being savagely attacked. I thought the fact that jumbo mosquitos had declared war on my body all weekend was bad enough but this was before having been bee-stung. Sticking my hand into a live electrical socket is the closest thing I can think of that would probably feel similar.
During the rest of the trip home (with a red swollen hand and a tear-stained face), I was trying to think of adequate words to describe the pain of a bee sting when all I could come up with was, “it was like, BAM and then, what the? Like, POW… then THROB, THROB, THROB,” which is not very impressive for a writer. In my defence, I was trying to simultaneously (a) concentrate on staying alive on the motorcycle going 200km per hour since I was only holding on with one hand (OK, I wasn’t driving, but it’s still scary) and (b) trying to be aware of whether or not I was going into anaphylactic shock. I’m still in shock (of the regular kind; not anaphylactic) and actually impressed that I managed to come up with that whole ‘electrical socket’ comparison. Blame the bee.
On a happier note and to draw focus away from violent insect attacks for a moment, I did manage to write 1000 words and read a few chapters during the weekend. It’s not much but every little helps. Right, quoting Tesco ads is a sign that I need to end this post pronto so I’ll be off, happy in the knowledge that this Monday is soon drawing to an end.
Clarification: I am aware that if it was a bee that stung me, he/she will be dead now (I hope it was worth it) but I wanted to keep the post light-hearted…
Just glad you didn’t jump and scream causing the driver to get rattled…I think that would have been how it would have happened for me…since I tend to get dramatic from time to time!
The projectile crying inside the helmet was enough drama for one motorcycle ride! Hate someone? Set bees on them. Or bee. One is enough.
It takes a bee’s death to make such a good story!