Not the Queen

Her maj was in town today, I suppose I should have gone out and flapped a flag around or something. But I didn't. I went to the woods instead.
I've mentioned before that I get a bit freaked out in woods (although these woods aren't the sort to be frequented by axe wielding maniacs so I was Ok today) but I wasn't sure why. It's quite a recent fear, but today as I was busy nearly getting lost, I realised why I get so freaky and it's so obvious that I can't believe I didn't make the link before today!
In my pre-Bella days I spent a summer in Northern Cyprus volunteering on a conservation project. There were about 20 of us, we worked together, ate together, played together and all slept in the same room - we were together literally 24 hours a day. In previous years, some local men had got a bit excited about having so many British women nearby, so one of the rules was that us females should only go out in pairs, never alone. I've never been much good at listening to advice, and even worse at obeying rules so one day, feeling claustrophic and in need of some time alone, I snuck off out for a walk in the forest that surrounded our base.
It was early evening, the light was warm and beautiful, the sound of cicadas singing, it was just heavenly and I was so happy to finally be on my own and just be able to enjoy everything around me. I sat on a log to have a drink, and thought I should probably think about heading back as it was getting late and the light would soon be fading.
It then dawned on me that I was completely lost, I had no concept of which direction I'd come from, every pathway I came to looked exactly the same, but nothing looked familiar. I was wandering around panicing, wondering how I was ever going to find my way back when I turned a corner and walked headlong into a solid wall of flies. The sound of their buzzing was like something out of a horror film. I looked down and there at my feet was a dead rottweiler, it had been torn to shreds. I remember the absolute terror, being frozen on the spot, wondering if whatever or whoever had killed that dog was still here and would I be next. Then I just ran, shrieking and wailing and hyperventilating still with no idea of where I was going and by now it was getting dark. I don't know how long I was running, but after a while I heard voices in the distance. At first I thought they were the voices of maniacs, but then I heard that they were calling my name.
To cut an already too long story short, a search party had been sent out, I was safely retrieved and for the rest of that summer at least, I did as I was told.
So that's why I'm wood phobic.