There I sat like an ice block in a freezer. From my perch I could see a good deal of Tony’s kitchen and I watched as he walked past the corner of the old retro table with its red, mother of pearl, laminate top. At the kitchen bench he plugged the cord into the yellow china jug, flicked the switch to boil and placed a white and floral patterned teapot on the bench in front of him. From a row of old tin canisters he chose the one with the faded label on which was printed tea and shovelled two teaspoons-worth into the teapot. By this time the jug had boiled. Tony turned off the power and proceeded to pour the boiling water into the teapot. He turned to the cream coloured, round topped, “Crossley” fridge and reefed on its lever type handle, opening it up. After adding some milk to his cup of tea he returned the milk bottle to the fridge and slammed the door shut.

It was at this time that I realized that we had another problem: that haunting, annoying, ‘ drive you crazy’, unmistakable sound: ZZZZzzzzZZZZzzzz: bloody mossies! Swarms of the blood sucking, stinging, kamikaze buggers had found us. It was okay while we were moving around, but as we had to stay put, they seemed to sense that it was time to come in for the kill. We couldn’t slap them for fear that Tony would hear us; so all we could do was slowly brush them off with one hand, which didn’t seem to help much.

My mind ran wild as it played out different scenarios……      “Would I end up like a wrinkled piece of leather hanging over this tree branch once the mozzies had sucked me dry? Or…If Tony did catch us how would I be able to explain to Mum why and where my skin had disappeared to?” My mind flashed back to a Laurel and Hardy movie I once saw. They had been skinned alive and were walking down the street as skeletons. “Hmmm!” I wondered, “how long would it take for the skin to grow back over my bones? I certainly wouldn’t be able to go to school for a while, that’s for sure.”