Earlier in the week, while putting the bins out, I noticed a spider hiding in between the garden door. Pretty normal in most circumstances, especially as it was basically in the garden. I know I don’t like spiders very much, but really, my only phobia is of those huge ones, the size of your hand, which run across the living room floor, while you’re watching Coronation Street.
This spider, however, was a big different. It was big, fat, and dark and had thick legs. With my very limited knowledge of arachnids, I identified it as a False Widow Spider. This is a breed of spider, which the media have been going crazy about, as it looks like its deadly cousin, the Black Widow.
The ‘Falsey’ can apparently bite, but this is supposed to only be like a bee sting. You might say its bark is worse than its bite, although spiders don’t bark, so you really, you can’t say that at all.
I was less perturbed by the eight-legged lodger than Claire, which is unusual, as when a spider normally invades our home, it is her who has to deal with it – after I have shouted, screamed and cried. I suppose Claire was concerned by the fact these particular spiders can bite – fair enough, really. I don’t think those gert-maccy ones I hate have big enough gnashes to break human skin (not that I ever wish to find out). I also knew this spider was safely confined behind the utility room door. If it ever found its way onto the sofa, or worse, the bed, I would, as with tradition, shout, scream and cry.
So what is the purpose of today’s blog? Surely the fact a (relatively) harmless spider is outside of my house, along with billions of other spiders, it is a non-story. You would be right, if it weren’t for the fact the spider spotted has now vanished. Granted, it could have decided living lodged between a door wasn’t very nice, packed its bag and crawled off into the big wide world to find a big rock to live underneath. That is the most likely scenario. The other thing which could have happened, is the spider moved into the house and is now lying in wait for me to get into bed where it will bite me.
To coincide with the spider being spotted and subsequently absconding was this story in the news about a grandmother DYING after being bitten by a False Widow. Now I don’t want to panic unnecessarily, but what if the spider which bit the unfortunate woman ran away after committing the murder and was hiding from police and the FBI in my utility room door? There could be a murderer in my house.
If this is my last blog ever (because I’m massacred in my sleep by a spider), it’s been a pleasure.
I arrived into work this morning to find total bedlam. Numerous fires had somehow been started in the office; a wild goat had found its way in and was running riot; the toilets were overflowing, spilling sewage all over the floor, and Gazza was in the corner with a bucket of chicken and a fishing rod.
I exaggerate slightly. It wasn’t quite so insane, but it was fairly manic, as we had a number of staff shortages, some unexpected – we were down to the bare bones – not the ideal thing on a Monday. Luckily, we coped very well and it looks like I have survived the day, although it isn’t quite 5 O’clock, so there’s still time for something bad to happen…
Yesterday, I travelled Kent, to watch Bath City against Ebbsfleet United. It was a long way to go, we had to leave early and we got back late. City could have had an even longer trip, to Hartlepool, in the FA Cup, had we not lost 7-1 to East Thurrock two weeks earlier.
Ebbsfleet’s ground is situated close to the Eurostar train station. I think we were probably closer to France than we were to Bath.
If it had rained or snowed and the game had been called off, we could have jumped on the Eurostar and gone to watch Paris Saint-Germain. I may have had a problem, though, as I didn’t take my passport with me.
It didn’t rain or snow, so we did get to watch Ebbsfleet.
Football coach Liam Daish used to manage Ebbsfleet and was very popular with their fans. Bath City’s management team, pictured below, are not as popular with the Twerton Park faithful (although I like them), so I don’t think there will be an ADIE BRITTON STAND built anytime soon…
It was a very entertaining game, against a team which are near the top of the league, hoping to get promoted and spending lots of money. Any betting man, would place his money on an Ebbsfleet win.
Although if you had placed £10 on a home win, you would have lost £10, as Bath City drew 0-0. A fair result, although I am an optimistic fan and always think City can beat anyone, I was a bit disappointed that they didn’t win.
Claire does a lot of shift work, involving long days. She has four shifts this work, each of which is over 12 hours. I have never envied her work pattern, but after today, I have even more respect for my fiancée and other people who work for such long periods. I started my day at 9am, as normal. I left shortly before 9pm. The reason for what I believe to be my longest working day ever, is the fact I attended a training course after my regular day in the office. Luckily it was onsite, so it was only a 10 minute walk home. I am now showered and about to devour pizza as I am very tired and very hungry.
Yesterday saw Bath City play at home for the first time since last week’s FA Cup exit. It was a case of ‘after the Lord Mayor’s Show’, although given the nature of the cup exit – losing 7-1 – perhaps it should be ‘after the Lord Mayor defecated on everyone’.
Unlike other home games, where we turn up shortly before kick-off, we arrived at Twerton Park two hours before the game started. The reason for this exceptional punctuality was because we were all being wined and dined on prawn sandwiches as part of a hospitality package/match sponsorship.
Claire’s parents had organised the occasion in celebration of their Pearl Wedding Anniversary (that’s 30 years of marriage). Twerton Park is a lovely ground. It is full of charm; however it is falling apart in places (to be fair, this adds to its charm). I was therefore interested into how Bath City could do ‘posh nosh’.
I was pleasantly surprised – there was not a prawn sandwich in sight. Roast dinner was the main course, with meat-free shepherd’s pie for the vegetarians. This was followed by a wide choice of desserts. I was adventurous and went for chocolate ice cream. The facilities and service were excellent and could not be faulted. Well done, Bath City and, of course, congratulations to Alison and Paul, Claire’s parents, on their anniversary.
The match was a lot better than last week. Although, let’s be honest, it couldn’t have been much worse. They lost 7-1 to East Thurrock, so this week’s opponents, St Albans City, could have won 5-0, and it would have still been an improvement! Not only did Bath City concede 7 goals less than a week ago, but they scored 1 more. If you’re not good at maths, that means they won 2-0. A very pleasing result.
It was up to us, as match sponsors, to choose the afternoon’s man of the match. Luckily we didn’t have to make such a decision during last week’s debacle. The man of the match was decided on votes from the sponsors and their guests. Claire and I both chose Andy Watkins, a pacey little striker who, in my opinion, ran his socks off and caused St Albans lots of problems. Sadly, we were outvoted and Bath City fans’ favourite, Ross Stearn, took the honour – a decision which was greeted by much joy and ecstasy throughout Twerton Park.
All in all, an entertaining and pleasing afternoon. If only Claire’s parents could sponsor the game every week, City might win more often.
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.
