Yesterday was a mix of a day. A warm enough morning for a walk without a jacket, followed by cooking up stories and a chili that will last me a few days, some of that there housework, including washing, and, eventually, a good old sit down on the saggy old sofa with my feet up. We had more army men helping with the rubbish clearance and lane tidying up the way, and the slope with the trees and the lane itself have never looked so neat. That’s with no disrespect to the guys who shift the rubbish and clear up after us, nor to the chap who clears general debris from the streets around here. These army guys are simply adding to what’s already well organised and regular, though I am not sure why. I wanted to get a photo of them in action, but it felt a little odd to stand at the bedroom window with a camera like a spy. Besides, there’s a whacking great pole in the way.

And then, in the early evening, everything went downhill. I was in the kitchen getting everything out to make myself a salad so I could feel virtuous, when I noticed a Symi spider investigating the hob not two feet away. It was only a three-incher, a young one, I guess, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, it was there and so was I, and there was no-one else in the house I could call on. My thought process went something like this:

Oh no, why now? Neil! (In Scotland.) Saucepan over the head? Mine or spider’s? Spider’s. No! Ew, nasty mess. Cockroach spray? Will that work? No, can’t do that; it might escape and return for revenge. It’s moving. Quick. Think. Bowl… They all have a lip on them, it could get out. Ah ha! Tupperware in the end cupboard. (Opens end cupboard to be showered with Tupperware, plastic containers from the supermarket, and other handy things to use in the freezer. Leave most on the floor and collect the nearest one with a lid.) Now what? Container over the spider… Bravery, bravery, ‘Who dares wins…’ Done. Now what? How do I get the lid under it, it’s too thick. If I life the box it will leap at my face like a thing from Alien and beat me black and blue for my audacity. Cornflake’s packet. (There was an empty one waiting to go to the bins.) Too big. It could go inside. You going to ask it? Cut it up. Find scissors, cut out square of cardboard, slide beneath box — good old Blue Peter — and, now what? The card is thin and needs holding underneath and the plastic box is transparent. Still, here we go…

It’s not a case of being afraid of these little creatures, it’s something else. Maybe bordering on revulsion for an illogical reason, or maybe something that just is, but although I didn’t have to look at it climbing around the box, I could feel it through the thin layer of cardboard, and I could hear it as I fled the house with it. My head was already aching and my heart pounding as I shuffled off up the lane in my slippers with this thing held before me, all the time telling myself I was doing well, and repeating what they say in every American film with the slightest quest involved, ‘You got this.’ I know I’ve got it, it’s in my hand, and the cardboard keeps moving, and it’s going to escape and attack, and even if I leave it up here it’s going to come back later and creep around at night… A safe distance from the house, I threw everything away with a ‘Be off with you!’ and watched it dive for cover up the slope so recently tidied by the soldiers. Then, I backed away slowly, eyes on the enemy, until I reached the safety of home where I shut all the windows.

However, they were already shut, as were the doors, so I was left wondering, ‘How long had that been in the house with me?’ Then came the usual thought of, ‘Are there more? What was that noise?’ Every small shadow becomes a possible threat. Lights stay on. Try not to think about it… and although I managed to watch a film after the event, I can’t tell you which one because my mind was elsewhere, and I was still trembling and a little nauseous until bedtime at eight thirty (dressed in my handy bee-keeping outfit).

Still. I’ve done it once. I can do it again. I only hope I don’t have to, and I’ll now be on the lookout for days. Perhaps I could ask those army men to stand guard at the perimeter of the house until Neil gets back. I’ll pop up and ask them later…