One day of still, calm, warm and muggy conditions I drove down Glen Brittle, and passed a phone box. There was a person hiding inside the phone box, crouched down with their hood up, jacket sleeves pulled down over their hands, cloth across their face, and they rocked back and forth in a state of horrific torment. I drove back home.
An old method of avoiding them is to stay in the pub until closing time, but the alcoholic liver disease is maybe a high price to pay. And in the midsummer gloaming the little buggers stay up all night.