John O'Groats to Lands End - D Day minus 2 (adendum)

Checking my bag again and running through in my mind the absolute necessities for the journey ahead I am appalled to find that I haven't packed a tin opener. Or a spoon. What was I going to do with the sausage and beans - bite my way in.

While the rest of the world is focussed on Swine Flu I am reserving my pandemic-paranoia for Lyme's disease. The tiny bloodsucking ticks which spread this dread malady lurk in the long grasses of the British countryside waiting to attach themselves to passing mammals.

As a mammal that bothers me.

The good news is that ticks can neither fly nor jump. So stay out of the long grass and don't rub yourself up against passing deer or sheep and you should be OK.

The bad news is that if you do spot one of the mites having a meal at your expense and pull the little bugger off it is liable to leave its barbed mouth parts festering in your flesh.

But worry not. Technology has the answer in the form of a little device called a tick twister, a hooked prong which enables you to detach the parasite without leaving any part of it emebedded beneath your skin.

The Chemist didn't stock this useful gadget but the Brannock Veterinary Practice in Newarthill High Street was able to sell me one and I now feel that I am prepared for anything the Scottish
countryside has to throw at me.