Wuss

I took my morning cup of tea outside yesterday morning, settled down for a quick read and there it was. That tang, that je ne sais quoi that hovers in the air announcing that summer is nearly at an end. This can only mean one thing to a wuss like me.....the start of 'The Season of the Spider!'

Better get a move on.......

Don't get me wrong, I love nature, in all its forms, but I just wish that nature had neglected to create things with more than four legs that move in sinister ways.

A few years ago, after a particularly nasty incident involving a renegade arachnid, I decided to take some positive steps. A friend, who had thought it funny to wave a spider in my face after she had picked the horror off the floor, had ended up with vomit all over her lovely new shoes - something had to be done!

I spent the money, and did my time with a hypno-priestess who convinced the inner, Inner Minx that one only has to breathe out in order to conquer ones irrational ideas. It works - to an extent. I can now look at a spider without all my bodily fluids escaping and I can do brave things like placing a pot over said beastie should he venture past my blockades.

So, yesterday was spent in a frenzy of pre-autumnal cleaning and all skirting boards, windows, doorframes sprayed with my 'don't come nowhere near here' concoction of chestnut and clover. I can't kill them you see, they're only little, harmless really - except that big bastard in the downstairs loo who deliberately waits until I'm.................