I am blogging again at this hideously late time, not because I am hoping to spot The BFG delivering dreams to my neighbours, but because we have had the first (and hopefully last) spider encounter of 2018.
I was happily dozing and about to fully fall asleep, when Claire leapt out of bed – and I mean LEAPT.
Instinctively, I knew the cause of this reaction. A spider. I was right. Before I continue this horror story, I will say that I would be in the wrong to suggest I have some supernatural, psychic power, to enable me to guess when my wife has spotted an arachnid. The truth is, that whenever Claire shouts or lets out a shriek from another room, I always incorrectly assume that she has been attacked by a spider, when in fact the reality is that she has dropped a cup or stubbed her toe on the kitchen table. Therefore, tonight, when Claire took flight and left the marital bed, I correctly guessed it was a spider, when on another evening, she could have smelt an unpleasant odour and thought that I had broken wind.
Back to the spider… the way Claire described the beast, you would have thought it was as big as a dining plate. “Why don’t we ever keep a dustbin in the bedroon?” I thought, thinking that such an object would be the ideal size to catch something with such a large leg diameter. Never mind a dustbin, we didn’t even have a sodding pint glass in the bedroom! Again, I wished to myself – this time that either Claire or myself were alcoholics, who would have a bedside pint glass. No such luck. Never mind being an ‘alcy’, even my cider drinking days are a thing of the past. The only thing that Claire could find, in order to trap the invader to our bedroom, was a plastic disposable cup. The type you get served orange squash in at a church fête. Marvellous.
There was bad news. By the time Claire had FOUND the cup, she had LOST the spider. If you hate spiders, like I do, a spider missing in the bedroom is the thing of nightmares. Seriously – I’d rather dream of being buried alive by Fred West or eaten by a baboon. Luckily, my hero wife pulled apart our TV cabinet, accidentally unplugging the Sky box in the process, and found the creature responsible for causing so much peril.
Once caught in the barley water cup, Claire took the spider to the bathroom for disposal – out of the window, not down the toilet, before any of you call the RSPCA.
Needless to say, I didn’t ask to see the spider. I wanted it out of the house, quicker than Donald Trump would deport a gay, disabled, unemployed immigrant, without a visa.
I was on the verge of sleep, before the ordeal. Now, to quote Claire, “Well, if I was sleepy before, I f***ing ain’t now!”
Anyway, sleepy or not, I am off to try and rest. I just hope that “thing” didn’t have any friends. As they say on Crimewatch, “Don’t have nightmares”.
Is it possible for animals to be disobedient? In the case of rabbits, I believe so. With Roman, our pet bunny, most definitely.
Roman has a naughty habit of biting the clips on his cage, which keep him locked in. He only appears to do this when he wants feeding, grooming, released into his play pen, or a combination of all three. What’s more, Roman will only demonstrate his destructive side when there is somebody in the room to witness his tantrum. If Claire or me are upstairs, he won’t show any badbehaviour whatsoever.
So why am I making such a big deal out of Roman biting his cage clips? The reason is because these particular clips are replacements for the ones which originally came with his cage, which he destroyed! These replacement clips had to be imported from America and were not cheap. Clearly President Donald has imposed a tax on pet supplies.
The clips arrived today and were duly fitted, while Roman enjoyed a day in his pen. Upon being returned to his cage, Roman devoured his evening meal of vegetables and nuggets. Immediately upon finishing this said feast, he took one look at the new clips and started to destroy them. The little shit…
Don’t you find that you go through life, paying ever-increasing bills and charges, while feeling that your hard-earned pennies are disappearing into the pockets of some corporate fat cat? The common man never wins, he just pays a little bit more every month. Well, for once, things came good and resulted in a victory for me!
You’ll recall that I have not been well of late (don’t worry, I’m still well on the road to recovery). What I neglected to tell you all was that Claire and I had a cruise booked for next month, which we had to cancel due to my recent ill health. Due to the short notice of our cancellation, we looked set to lose a lot of money.
Being sensible, I took out travel insurance at the time of booking our holiday. After falling ill and cancelling the cruise, I naturally sent off a very large claim under my travel insurance. Given I was asking for so much money, as well as the fact I had never heard of the insurer before and they could only be contacted by post, I didn’t hold out much hope of receiving a penny back.
Weeks passed since making my claim and I became resigned to the fact that I would never see the holiday money again. Until today! I logged into my bank account to pay a bill (what else?) when I saw a very large sum of money had been deposited into my account. Upon close inspiration, it transpired that this money had been sent from my insurance company! Every penny that I had claimed, minus the small excess, was there. It was the biggest insurance payout related to a ship since the Titanic sunk. For once, I won!
Since getting the snip, Roman has been misbehaving. Granted, he’s always had a naughty streak, but the last few days he has been especially petulant.
It all started on Tuesday, when Claire went to Turkey to watch Bath City. Did I write “Turkey”? I meant Torquay – I’m forever confusing those places! I was left to take care of Roman by myself. Since I have been off work sick, Roman has been allowed to stay out in his indoor run until bedtime.
However, he has been known to play merry hell, when being put back into his cage for the night, and because of this, it was decided that he would only be allowed a couple of hours exercise, before being locked away, when it was time for Claire to set off to Devon.
I spent the day on the sofa, just a few feet from Roman’s cage. Realising that his Mummy had disappeared and Daddy was in charge, Roman began to use every trick he could think of, in order to get my attention. This included tearing up the newspaper lining his cage, throwing his food bowl around, and trying to dislodge his covered bedroom. Worse still, he later started to bite the plastic clips, which locked his cage, until one of them snapped! I have had to import a replacement set of clips from America, and let me tell you, they’re surprisingly expensive!
Needless to say, I told Roman off. He looked guilty. Being a soft touch for his cute face, I ended up feeding him some lovely vegetables.
I am pleased to report that Roman’s behaviour the following day was much improved – although being allowed back into his run certainly helped! His naughty excursions the previous day had clearly taken their toll, as he spent much of the afternoon sleeping. During his sleep, Claire and I were amazed when he quacked. Yes, you read that right, and no, it’s not a typo. Roman the RABBIT quacked like Donald DUCK.
Roman has not quacked since, nor has he tried to imitate any other birds or animals. Until he does, or he starts sprouting feathers, I am not going to worry. Given the fact he was sleeping at the time, I can only assume that he was experiencing some bizarre dream, where he thought that he was a Mallard.
About Me
So you stumbled across my blog. No doubt after searching for something bizarre on Google. Before you hit that 'Back Button', why not stay and have a read for a few minutes?
If you are after a website which gives advice on how to hack an iPhone X, download the latest Steven Seagal movie, or view nudy ladies, you've come to the wrong place and may now press 'Back'.
However, if you would like a lifestyle blog, written by a 30-something chap, living in Bath (England), feast your eyes on this.
You won't discover how to copy PlayStation 4 games. What you will find is a blog, covering life in the West Country, the highs and lows of supporting two unsuccessful football teams, while sharing a house with a wife and rabbit.
All written by a man, somewhere on the sanity-scale between normal and eccentric.
