Wednesday, 2 October 2013
Along with late butterflies my Buddlieas are playing host to a whole army of spiders.
For weeks now I have been feather duster armed evicting the wiry thin long-legged ones from the house but am being assailed on all sides by their horrid cousins.
On Monday this week the parish administrator leant over the back of the office sofa to put something behind it and retreated hastily, having seen a large black beast lurking in a box.
Yelling for the caretaker (and she can yell), she and I, left the office at speed.
A few minutes later, another volunteer braver than either of us, had picked up the box and dropped its inhabitant outside in the churchyard.
This morning at the bus stop, it was drizzling so I was well under its roof until I suddenly found an absailing arachnid in front of my face. Luckily the bus came so I beat a hasty retreat, shuddering.
Half way through the morning, there was a yell from the bookkeepers office upstairs and she ran down the stairs closing her office door first and also shouting for the caretaker.
By the time he had made his unhurried appearance there was no sign of the invader and we all spent the remainder of the morning looking nervously around before touching anything.
Since it is Harvest Festival this coming Sunday and we are slowly gathering a mountain of donated goodies in the office in preparation for displaying them at the service, I am treading very warily around bags and boxes only too aware that their contents may contain the odd surprise.
What is it about this season that produces the desire for confrontation in the (hearts?) of this eight-legged brigade of nasties?
Why can't they just go about their arachnid affairs without the need for face-to-face tactics?
Why am I such a wimp?
Posted by Ray Barnes at 4:38:00 pm