Not So Incy Wincy.


This morning, a large spider revealed itself in my bedroom just long enough for me to reach for the designated spider glass, then disappeared. Jeopardy.

I was looking in the mirror at the time, as is my wont when my wife's at work. Whole days are spent gazing at my reflection, usually to the soundtrack of Joe Cocker's You Are So Beautiful on loop. Everybody needs a hobby.

I was styling my hair when it homed into view. The second I saw it, it froze. I've seen smaller fists. My two eyes met its eight and we sussed each other out. It was a Mexican standoff with two participants. By which I mean ‘a duel’. Without weapons. Shit analogy.

I had to work quickly. I ran to the kitchen (where the glass is kept), picked up an old Doggett & Ephgrave flyer to slide under it, and ran back to find an arachnid-shaped hole where an arachnid once was. My eight-legged friend had vanished.

This was not what I wanted. A huge creature was scuttling around the bedroom and I had no idea where. It was liable to lie in wait until I slept and then creep into an orifice. Hundreds of baby spiders would crawl out at a later date. I’d end up on the cover of Take a Break.

I needn’t have worried. When I came home later to get changed for Mostly Comedy I saw it shoot across the bedroom carpet. Glass and card were grabbed in a trice. It was ejected from the property. I can now sleep soundly in my bed. Provided it was the same spider, that is.

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