Tuesday, November 13, 2012

On Our Smaller Neighbours

 There must be something in the air and water in America that makes it a paradise for insects. It's home to swathes of the beasts:  bees that burrow in the ground, caterpillars that build tents, mosquitoes that spread West Nile Virus, ticks that spread Lyme disease,  Japanese beetles that chomp on flowers, carpenter ants that chomp on wood, termites that chomp on houses, blackflies that leave you dripping blood, deerflies, horseflies, yellowjackets, centipedes, cicadas, crickets, grasshoppers, chiggers, woolly bears...

even the posh B and B we stayed in once in Charleston, South Carolina had cockroach powder in the wardrobe. And bed bugs are apparently out of control in New York City.
  Even relatively benign insect life like ladybirds can suddenly multiply and fill the house as the whim takes them; this autumn there were small grasshoppers everywhere, inside and out; I've got nothing against them personally but they're not the most comely creatures to have staring you in the face when you go to the window first thing.
   So one is understandably sensitised to these things.  And may explain why, the other day, as I was walking along our relatively dim upstairs landing and saw something black scuttling at my feet, I panicked. I did not just panic, ladies and gents, I screamed. I did not just scream. I screamed blue murder. And hubby wasn't around. And the neighbours are far too far away to hear. So I started to run. And, guess what, the thing came after me. I ran in circles like a headless chicken and still it followed me, like some heat-seeking missile, all of three - all right, two inches long. I screamed again and kicked out. I turned and still it followed.  Then out of the swirling depths of hysteria, a tiny spark of reason took a hold.  I steeled myself to take a closer look. It was one of those cardboard reels of thread, one end of which was stuck to my leg.  At which point, the hysteria gave way to almighty  relief that neither hubby nor the neighbours had heard a thing.


  1. Živjo, Alenka, saj si to ti?!
    Tukaj pa od tvoje sestrične Anamarije sin Rok iz Ljubljane, sva se spoznala v Londonu precej let nazaj.

    1. Zivjo Rok! Kako si! Ce mores, posilji mi tvoj naslov email kot "comment". (Bom samo jas videla) Tako bom lahko prav Ti kaj vec napisala! Alenka