JOHN has a cutting phrase whenever I complain that I have been bitten by a mosquito or something else vicious and airborne.

"They only eat bad meat," he will tell me. No sympathy involved. So after an evening fishing with Sophie down at the pond, I came home convinced that I must be fairly rotten as my legs and arms were covered with bites from pond side pests.

Sophie, whose mum my daughter Jo had had the sense to smother her in mosquito repellent, was not bitten at all. I, who only went down to the pond on a last minute whim and had not made any anti mosquito preparations, was eaten alive.

In the middle of the night I woke up suffering badly from very itchy mosquito bites. Not wanting to wake John I reached to the bed side table to get hold of the small bottle of lavender oil that I find invaluable for relieving the intense irritation of an insect attack.

I grabbed the first bottle I laid my hands on, unscrewed the lid and dabbed the contents onto my leg where I had been bitten most viciously.

Suddenly the smell of varnish assailed my nostrils. A sensation of stickiness rubbed onto my fingers as I felt where I had applied the "lavender oil". I shot out of bed and into our en-suite, switched on the light and burst into a fit of giggles when I saw what I had done.

It looked like I had been stabbed in the leg and severed an artery. Bright red nail varnish, which I had applied to my nails a couple of days before and left the bottle on my bedside table, oozed over my legs. I dabbed it off as best I could, but still gave John a huge shock in the morning when he brought me a cup of tea and saw the state I was still in.

But was his first thought sympathy for me and what could possibly have been a horrendous injury incurred during the night? Well it was initially, but that lasted for all of two seconds when he realised what I had really done.

I shall be more careful with the contents of my bedside table from now on. And remember to switch the light on first and check what I am applying the next time.

But the most telling comment came from John when we were talking over my mishap at breakfast time.

"What would really have given me a shock," John said, "Was if you had been bitten on your neck or even wrists and decided to dab that nail varnish on in the dark rather than the lavender oil."

Can you imagine if he had woken up before me and turned over in bed to see his beloved (I sincerely hope) wife, seemingly oblivious, or even lost, to the world, with a slash of red across her neck or wrists. Too gory to contemplate.