ARGH. Thursday, a very ranty Duchess

Have you ever had a coldsore? Or a mosquito bite?

Or TWO coldsores AT THE SAME TIME as well as A MILLION MOSQUITO BITES?!

Let me tell you kind ladies and gentlemen it is not fun. It is not fun at all. It is, in fact, distinctly un-fun.

I woke up this morning with a start at 6 am with what felt like two bees stinging my face. They were having a great time, taking it in turns to stab their merry little chubby bee bottoms into my upper lip. My first thought was to smack myself in the face, thereby killing said bees and stopping the pain. Clearly I am not a morning person, still I'm sure Oscar Wilde said something about only dull people being brilliant before breakfast.

Have you ever smacked yourself in the coldsore? If you have one, try it. It feels not unlike your face is exploding.

My startled squawk awoke boyfriend, who grumbled a little something like "poor baby i lov..........*snore*
Thankyou darling, you are a shining example of good boyfriendry. Correct response would of course have been to pick me up, naked but for a rather fetching sheet, and rush me to the nearest plastic surgery clinic for recuperation until my face is fit for public viewing. Perhaps I have overdosed a little on Nip/Tuck recently, but that seems to be about the best solution for any minor disfigurement.

As it was, this muffled appeasement would have to do.

Next problem; it is 6am. I don't have to be awake legally for another two hours. Why have you done this body clock? WHY? The rest of the city is just starting to wake up and make noise, the traffic is beginning the overture leading to its ear splitting rush hour crescendo. Now is not the time to be going to sleep, it is the time to be BEING asleep.

Going for a wee whilst trying to remain asleep is a tricky business. It requires absolute confidence in the uncluttered nature of your floor (too trusting, beer cap to the heel: ouch), ability to keep your eyes at least 80% shut during your trajectory (I have this down thanks to years of playing the blind game with my friends as a child) and above all not, repeat NOT turning the bathroom light on. Disobey this last and you might as well say goodbye to any possibility of having a remotely productive day. These rules may well result in you urinating upon yourself and/or your bathroom furniture but at least you'll get back to bed with minimal sleep disruption.

Well at least that is unless your flat is a mosquito infested snore-filled sauna.

There are few things more terrifying than the cold metallic buzz of a mosquito as it closes in on your innocent half-sleeping form. The little bastards seem to time these assaults for the exact moment you are just losing your grip on cold reality for the cosy friendly warmth of sleep. Your pillow is reaching out to give your brain a nice big hug.

Buzz.

I make the obligatory noncommital slapping motion in the vague direction the noise seems to be coming from. It stops, so does boyfriends calmly rhythmic breathing as my flailing fingers meet his eyesocket. Luckily boyfriend is of the sturdy hurricane survival sleeping build and slumber continues peacefully. Buzzing stops. I begin once more the long and slow descent into oblivion.

Buzz.

This time I am far too tired to attempt to move my arms, which have just found a perfectly comfortable if unorthodox position and have subsequently turned to lead. This tricky situation can be handily assuaged by use of an impromptu "head-swatting", at least, that is what my sleep-starved brain believes.

Head swatting, it transpires, requires rather more skill than first believed. I spend at least ten minutes thrashing around embarrassingly like somebody's dad at the Isle of Wight festival. Mosquito flies off sniggering as I take a wall to the forehead.

I abandon my body to the inevitable and wake up with two whopping coldsores, red spots all over my pasty english limbs and a sore head.

I clearly need to go back to bed school.