I work for food

Don't mind *too* much going to work today, because it is the third day of Bloody Hot and the gulag aircon is better than mine. However, today the gulag is going to make their Kitsch Khristmas video, with us arranged around the truly kitschy decorations. Then we have to sing. I assured the manager I could not, but unfortunately this turned out to be just what they wanted. ["We'll put you front and centre!'] I'm not sure what we win - it's a competition with the other prison camp offices - but it may be a hamper of some sort.

I go off to work with yet another ailment; this one a mystery. I was clearing out my frog pond, this being something I do on hot days because it requires immersion. I had my hand deep in a clump of detritus when something bit me, two feet underwater. If not for that, I would've said bee sting. It's worse than a bee sting as my wrist is still hot and painful some 18 hours after the bite. Whatever it is, it's not something I invited in. Have the Minnows grown fangs and attitude?

I usually get on ok with the garden wildlife but I suppose grabbing handfuls of goo from the pond bottom could be interpreted as a hostile act.