It’s spider season in the UK!
So today is the 1st September. Symbolising the end of summer, kids going back to school and sadly, a home invasion of eight legged enemies.
Like every sane person in the world I have an irrational fear of spiders and though we don’t have any dangerous species in the UK (no matter what the Daily Mail says) we do have some fairly unpleasant ones. And the Giant House Spider is the one we’re most likely to find in our homes this time of year. The GIANT House Spider. Yay.
And they live up to their name, the largest as big as 12cm and whilst they can’t hurt us, they’re still creepy and horrid and freaky little bastards. They run reeeeally fast and seeing them scuttle across the floor in the evening is common in September. So is screaming, standing on the sofa and shouting “get him…………GET HIM!”. Weird that.
I don’t like killing spiders. I don’t like killing anything. Except gnats – I HATE GNATS. Blood sucking arseholes. But everything else is just trying to get along, they deserve a chance. If a spider is small (say, smaller than a twenty pence piece) I’d just leave him be. But there are times when it’s inevitable that a spider must die. When they’re very large and in the wrong place – like next to the toilet. Death is the only option.
My preferred method is hitting them with a book or sucking them up the hoover. But killing them is never easy. Building up courage to get within a few feet of the evil creature takes ten minutes at least and I’m never sure if it’s better with or without an audience. With an audience you do have back-up, but the pressure builds.
“I can do this…..I can do this….”
Around this time insane thoughts begin to shoot through my mind. Suddenly this non-jumping spider is actually the strongest jumping spider in the world. Hell, I think he came back from Rio with a medal. He’s going to jump on me. I’m going to move and he’s going to jump on my face and possibly kill me.
And what if his friends are watching? What if they’re watching the brutal murder of their brother and plotting their revenge on me RIGHT NOW. Then like a tit I leave it too late, the spider (sensing weakness) scuttles away and the sight of him moving causes me to involuntarily run out of the room screaming. Now he’s under the sofa and I’ll never be able to relax again. Somehow I’ve become the victim? I need Liam Neeson.
So please comrades, wish me luck over the next thirty days as I arm myself with conkers (apparently they don’t like them), heavy books and try to put on a brave face.
Is is spider season where you live? Or perhaps a different creepy crawly frequents your town? Which creepy crawlies have you found inside your house? I’d love to hear your scary stories in the comments section.