Thursday, 27 September 2012


My landlord, Amir, laughed when I told him:
There’s wasps all over the house. I’ve no idea where they’re coming from, but every day I’m finding more and more of them – in my room, in the kitchen, in the bathroom, and the landing connecting all those areas.
He rang and left me a voicemail, asking if I’d been eating honey, or if there’s too much around the house. Normally I’d find such humour a blast – but not when I’m still waiting for Amir to pull his finger out and actually DO something about the problem.
Back in 1997 or 1998, shortly after Mum moved us into our new home in Whitefield, wasps literally invaded our house. I was sleeping over in my sister Donna’s room, and when the two of us woke the next morning, we found hundreds of wasps buzzing around the landing.
Turns out somebody had left the bathroom window open, and the creatures had flown in en masse overnight, and taken refuge inside our home.
Me and Donna didn’t know what to do, and if I’m honest, we both found it a little amusing. Obviously we didn’t appreciate the full scale of the danger… Eventually we shouted through to Mum next door, and the lot of us had to escape the house by wrapping duvet covers around ourselves, and bumping down the stairs one at a time.
Before that day, I’d never been stung before. I often thought to myself what would it feel like? I got my answer! In my sleep, I could feel the blighters stinging me; only I didn’t realise it was them at the time!
So there we are – me and wasps. A long and complicated history of invasion and intrusion, that continues to this day!
I beg you, no sting in the tail, please...

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