BE BUG AWARE

It is starting to get cooler here in Britain and typically, a lot of creatures look for different places to hide themselves when the weather changes. Not all of these are welcome.

No, that's not right.

None of them are welcome.

I've had a bit of a run of unexpected guests over the last couple of weeks. Those of you who regularly visit my work will have learnt about a very confident invertebrate who ventured to shelter in my footwear but for those of you who have not read about it, here is the link:

Not a particularly pleasant experience but one that was swiftly dealt with, unlike three nights last week where I was visited by what my kids like to call "murder hornets".

I have no idea if this is an actual term or whether it is something that my boys have coined to describe not only the way they physically look but also their intent. I doubt that hornets are designed to be killers of men with murder on their mind, which is what my boys seem to think. They might not be very nice creatures but "murder hornets" seems a harsh moniker, even to me. I know. I could Google it but I might find out and I think it's better to just leave that one lie.

Anyway, back to the story. I was relaxing, watching a bit of mindless TV before heading to bed. Generally, at this time of night, I am left undisturbed as my boys wind down (or wind up) playing video games at the top of the house. So I was quite surprised, not unpleasantly, to look around and see my eldest son standing there, looking at me with a plaintive eye.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I need you. It's urgent. At the top of the house."

I was just about to say "I'm not in the mood to be trounced and ridiculed at FIFA again," when he said,

"There's a murder hornet."

My kids, like many, I suppose, are prone to what I can only describe as extreme exaggeration so I imagined a bigger than average wasp. Like a queen. Substantial, yes, but likely to murder you, no.

However, it was still with some trepidation that I headed upstairs, armed with a floppy book for ultimate swat power.

"Where's your brother?" I asked, on the way up the stairs, imagining my youngest, cowering, cornered by the erratic careening of a murder hornet.

"He's up there on the Xbox," and he was, not duly unconcerned about the hornet, headphones on and legs jiggling in his "gaming chair", but keeping a wary eye on the frenzied movement of the wasp nonetheless.

I do feel a bit sorry for insects that inadvertently end up in your house. It must be quite confusing for them, especially the flies that repeatedly headbutt the glass pane to get out and can't understand why they consistently get clobbered on the head when they should be surging over the lawns of the suburbs.

However, wasps are a different kettle of fish altogether. I have been stung by a wasp and it hurts. My eldest has been stung too, a number of times, hence his insistence that I help with this fiend, as he saw it. There's also something about the way that they move, like they're retreating and regrouping all the time, like a boxer in a ring, looking to strike that is unnerving.

But how to get rid of it?

This one was persistent in its crazy weaving and diving. And it was huge. Definitely not a wasp. Or a queen. "Murder" hornet? No, I don't think so but hornet, maybe. Surely, he had to land soon. And it did. Eventually. On a rafter. Up high. And so, his fate was sealed.

I toyed with the idea of releasing him but there was no way I could balance on a stool, persuade him to get into a glass, place a piece of flat something over the top of said glass, make it off stool and to the skylight to get him out safely. Risk assessment done, I decided on action. Extermination. I regret that this was the case, but it had to be dispatched with a hefty tome about business or some such that I had procured from the bookcase for its flexibility for the swat.

Peace was restored in the Deeming household, gaming and TV viewing resumed. Huzzah!

The following night, I had another encounter with another hornet - this time the hornet survived due to some crafty thinking on my part involving coaxing it to the light and ultimately, an open back door.

Success and life respected, which is always a win.

Third night, similar to first, only this time, there was an even higher landing spot and in the absence of bug spray and extendable arms, I sprayed the hornet with furniture polish like an insect pepper spray. It fell to the floor and was swatted with a map of Wolverhampton. Note to self - if using furniture polish to subdue insects, place something on floor where you think insect will fall to avoid circular oily patches on your carpet.

I did feel like I was in a movie,"Invasion of the Killer Hornets" at one point.

What has all this got to do with watching where to put your feet? Not a lot really. The slug - yes. Hornets - no, although I have noticed smaller wasps dead on the carpet in the loft and have wondered, "If I inadvertently trod on one, would it still sting?"

But it does highlight the increased frequency of bugs in the house, leading me nicely to my denouement.

Last night, I was again sat watching a little bit of TV before going to bed. nothing demanding - a time-filler really. I can't even remember what it was. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw something move. It wasn't moving quickly but it was moving and it was towards me and my very bare feet. Making steady progress across the wooden floor was a very large spider.

I don't really have a problem with spiders. I'm a "live and let live" kind of girl although that could be argued after Hornetgate. But there was something about the way that this spider moved that irked me. It wasn't the usual sort of scurry, the frightened hurrying of the timid arachnid which knows that it might be spotted at any minute and that this could result in, at best, an expulsion; at worst, its execution.

No, I swear that that spider had swagger.

Its presence, in more ways than one, was unsettling.

Firstly, it should be outside, and not in my house, stringing itself between two branches in a tree somewhere, next to a ragged leaf, making a beautiful intricate web to shine in the moonlight. It could then position itself in the middle like a sentinel and wait, showing off its silken architecture to the unsuspecting and nocturnal. This was not the place for him, on my dusty old floor with the crumbs and the odd discarded raisin.

Secondly, its presence, as in, the vibes it was exuding. It wasn't a tarantula. It was quite squat with a full body and legs that were proportionate with the rest of its bits (it's not a speciality of mine, spider anatomy). It was very dark - could have been black, could have been a rich, luxuriant brown. I did not venture closer to analyse. There was something quite prepossessing about him. I'm not saying he was attractive by any means but there was a stateliness to the way that he moved across the floor which suggested confidence and awareness. He was a duke amongst spiders.

I watched his steady, unhurried progress and formed all of those thoughts as described above. And then I acted.

I am the spider bouncer of our house - you are removed by me. Very rarely are you given an invitation and there is no list on which you can put your name. If I am aware of you, you are not coming in.

It took only a moment before I could settle down to continue my relaxation without fear of something crawling across my foot. Mr Dyson was my accomplice of choice tonight. And that spider had weight, even with cyclone power.

A small part of me regretted my action but the thought of sitting and having that crawl its way across my foot gave me a shudder that could be felt by the neighbours.

Ugh.

Having had a cockroach run across my bare foot in Australia, I know the sensation of insect legs moving over skin and it is not one that I care to repeat.

Ever.

So watch out, people for the insects are coming! Not for any malicious purpose but they're coming nonetheless. And I would hate for them to take you by surprise and give you a little tickle. Or a sting.

So this article comes with a warning:

BE BUG AWARE.