Standing around campfire and to paraphrase the Eagles, a million stars are all around. And during the day, a million flies.

These flies aren't like any others we've experienced. These are the ones you see on tele, usually when some BBC reporter is showing film of the latest refugee crisis in the Sudan. The flies that crawl undisturbed around the open sores, eyes and orifices of the poor inhabitants of these God forsaken places. At home, flies are a pest and the buzzing would drive you nuts but these Australian jobs, they have no sense of personal space. They will land on any bit of exposed flesh and poke around up your nose, in your ears and around your mouth. Inhaling through anything other than clenched teeth is s high risk business. You can get a good workout just flicking the little buggers away for hours on end.

When my mum used to lie out in the garden to top up her summer tan she would put a nearly empty jam jar with water in it nearby to give the wasps somewhere better to visit than her. I'm thinking of doing something similar here for the flies but can you find a dog turd when you need one?

Meanwhile, much to Anne's embarrassment and the amusement of other campers I'm walking around wearing a Scottish midgie net hood looking something like a cross between a bank robber and a bee keeper. The only problem is, if this fine weather keeps up going to look like I've been sunbathing with my face in a sieve.

The caricature of an Aussie wearing a cowboy hat with corks all around suddenly seems pretty darn clever.