The thunderstorms are following us around. We’ve only been here in southern Spain a few days and our second is rattling the shutters as we speak. Being on dry land I’d normally be pretty relaxed about it, though. But no. There’s a huge, great wasp taken shelter in the bathroom. I mean massive. This is the Terminator of wasps. And it chose to make its presence known just as I stepped out of the shower.
Not bothering with the niceties of drying let alone deodorant, I made a run for it, slamming the door – with my glasses on the other side.
“Well it can’t stay there.”
“Well, spray it then!”
“Where’s the spray?”
“Should be under the sink.”
“Is this it?”
(Fumbles blindly, dripping, into the kitchen and holds can an inch from nose to examine) It’s labelled in Spanish but there’s a picture of a mosquito on the front.
“Will that kill it?”
Not having an entomology degree I guess it’s a pretty safe bet it won’t like it.
A few minutes later.
“That sorted it”
“Is it dead”
“It is now.”
Retrieving glasses I spot the soggy toilet paper in the sink.
“Is it down the plughole?”
“Yes, the paper’s to make sure it can’t come back.”
“Won’t it block the sink?”
Neil removes the paper bit by bit.
“The bugger’s still alive!” More paper is shoved down the plughole.
More running water.
“It’s dead now.”
Yeah, right. I’ve seen that movie. All four of them.