So there you sit, enjoying the evening sunshine and the distinctly Scottish Highland quiet. All the breeze of the day has dropped, and you're left with soft sunset glow and a warm feeling of contentment. You close your eyes, open your mouth, and inhale a deep lungful of ... midges. You   open your eyes, suddenly they're all around you, down your top, up your trouser-legs, in your hair, you can see them, a black cloud enveloping their prey. Biting, sucking, you itch at the thought of them. Only one person is safe. Well, two, but the one who has brought the net-curtain-like midge-body-suit doesn't count. Suddenly, everybody loves the smoker. Suddenly, smoking has a socially useful function - the midges hate it. AP

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