Well, it looks like it's that 'gargling bleach and making noises approximating an asthmatic cat with a hairball' time of year again.

I'm having a very buggy week. Let me explain.

Despite the name Tree, I have no affinity with plants. I am black-thumbed. Plants will flinch away from me as I walk past. Don't bother asking me if I've tried growing species X or Y, I've tried them and I've killed 'em. My housewarming invites come with the following warning: Guests bearing houseplants will be beaten senseless.

I don't do plants.

So what did I get for my last birthday? One bonsai (dead), one pot of assorted herbs (dead), one potted camellia, one potted gardenia and one potted daphne (all mercifully alive).

I was watering them on Sunday when I noticed that some of the camellia's leaves were a bit wilted. I looked closer.

EWWWW!

BUGS!

Hundreds of the little fuckers!

I snapped off a twig-load of them, stuck them in a bag and headed off to the local nursery to find out what was what. I also took a bud off my gardenia because while it is budding beautifully, none of them open into actual flowers. They just go all brown and dead and fall off.

I'm infested. Apparently I have thrip. How I've managed to get thrip when these plants are on a balcony two floors up, I have no idea. I have mountaineering thrip or something.

The lady at the nursery was very kind and sold me some lovely, environmentally friendly, instant-thrip-death-in-a-can made with pyrethrum, garlic and chillies. So if it didn't kill them, it would make an excellent Thai stir-fry.

And you can bet I gassed their thrippy little butts when I got home. Damn they smell tasty now.

But this is not why I'm gargling with bleach and making noises approximating an asthmatic cat with a hairball. I'm not tucking into a tasty garlic and chilli thrip snack. No, it's much worse than that.

Since I've started Weight Watchers (I've started a separate blog about that) I've been eating a lot of dates. When I'm in the mood for something dense and sweet, instead of eating chocolate, I reach for Ghost... er... dates.

I had a craving for something sweet and calorically-dangerous this morning, so I grabbed a couple of dates. I took a big bite of one and paused. The texture was all wrong. I looked at the remaining date.

It was crawling with bugs.

ACK!

PTUI!

I may never eat another date again.

Postscript:
As for the gardenia bud... well, I'm not sure I should tell you. You see, I may have a mutant gardenia. I suspect the government. It's a global conspiracy to create the perfect soldier gardenia. Your garden is about to become part of the war against terror. Terrorists will walk past your garden, admire your lovely blooms and suddenly be assassinated by your mutant gardenias. But I don't dare tell anyone in case the men in black arrive and fry my brain with pyrethrum, garlic and chilli.