Becoming One With A Mosquito by @TommyHolgate
Bleedin’ mosquitoes, eh guys? A phrase many of us will have uttered by way of referring to the ‘little buggers’ post-bite.
Cheryl Cole is not a fan, and nor were I for many a year. One of mucho traits the Geordie singer and I have had in common. That, and both ultimately being members of the same flowing spirit to name but two [there's at least one more, of that I'm almost certain].
But this all changed during a three-day fasting period by a lagoon in Spain over Easter.
Long story short, I had no money, food and only a pint of water to last 60 hours, by way of skint-induced cleansing.
The only possessions present were a rucksack, hammock, sleeping bag and hackisack – which didn’t get used but for a 10-minute session on the Saturday afternoon that yielded a grand personal best of three in a row. I was knackered and the ground was soft. Poor workman, tools blamed.
The most difficult thing about the experience was the presence of mosquitoes [NB: That is not - and shall never be - the nickname I give to Mexican Muslims].
I had no net. And not just because I had switched my phone to airplane mode.
In fact God’s honest truth I had turned the phone off until the final morning. Part of the exercise was to go without any stimulus or saying a word for the entirety – by way of coming to terms with one’s inner monologue.
The idea behind this is to let your thoughts go bonkers until the mind just gives up. This usually happens after about 24 hours and you sort of ‘hit refresh’ – this technique came from Deepak Chopra’s Ultimate Happiness Prescription book, which I’d highly recommend. Anyway I’ll talk more about the spiritual stuff in the third and final ‘tree blog’ soon.
Back to the mossies. And I did have my back to the mossies for much of the night. The problem with lying face down in a hammock though is that the body turns into an inverted banana. Backbends are cool and that [I mean, quite cool, obviously not as cool as compassion or kale for example] but sleeping in such a position is non-idyllic.
Hence, I evaded the bitey blighters by covering myself entirely in the sleeping bag, with a teeny tiny breathing hole.
Being fully clothed – in an attempt to evade nips – under a sleeping bag that goes down to zero degrees, in Spain, in Spring, makes you warm.
And the mosquito can plunge its face funnel through fabric anyway.
The point is, it was difficult to sleep and there were so many of them in the morning that I had to climb a tree and spend all day up there.
But one afternoon I came down for a sip of water and did some meditating in the reeds, when I felt a small prick in my right hand [not for the first time, oi oi!].
I was being bitten. But without the energy or inclination to crush the critter, I allowed it to fill itself up and fly away.
In that moment, we were one.
So then I did it again before leaving and filmed it for your pleasure.
[NB: The following three sentences represent a spurious method of crowbarring in a conclusion to fit with the opening gambit.]
In summary, I think it’s fair to say that neither I nor Gateshead-born recording artist, songwriter, dancer and TV personality Cheryl Cole have ever actually bled a radiator during our time together on this planet.
But in that moment by the lagoon that ‘little bugger’ on my hand was, quite literally, a bleeding mosquito.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Tommy Holgate AKA presenter, comedian and columnist for many a national newspaper including The Sun.
Follow Tommy’s adventures on twitter at @TommyHolgate.