Most of the stories I post on my blog are about me, which, unsurprisingly, is why the website is called Sean’s Stories.

In a change to the norm, today I’ll be telling a tale from my mum – mainly because it is as funny as it is horrific.

A few weeks ago, my mum woke up to a weird sensation inside her ear. Her slight worry turned to concern when she started to hear what can only be described as crawling. The reason why this is such an accurate description is because something was crawling inside her ear!

Her natural reaction was to poke around inside her ear and investigate. This gave her the sound and feeling of a bug being crushed to death within her skull. As with the sound of crawling, this was because she had just crushed a bug to death.

I believe the realisation into what had occurred, kicked in when she discovered tiny legs. It sounds like she reacted in a surprisingly calm manner. Many people would have smashed their head violently against a wall, or cut off the invaded ear like Vincent van Gogh. Perhaps old Vinnie found a creepy crawly in his lug!

My mother’s solution to extracting the remains of the late bug, was to flush it out of her ear using oil – there’s nothing like a dignified burial! Before you wonder if this is safe, she didn’t dash to the local car garage and pour Castrol into the side of her head. Nor did she ask the local chippy for any chip fat.

Apparently, the best way to deal with a severe ear blockage is to use a small amount of olive oil. Italians are said to swear by it. I bet they do! Something along the lines of “why the bloody hell did I just pour this stuff into my ear?”.

I don’t think it matters whether or not you have Extra Virgin, or just the normal stuff. It’s probably not a good idea to use Garlic-Infused olive oil, although it’ll ward off vampires – not to mention family, friends and colleagues – for months to come.

By the way, I feel that I must warn you all, as I am in no way medically trained, DON’T TRY THIS AT HOME! I have waited over 16 years to write that on my blog!

The plan to flood my mum’s ear with oil worked brilliantly, although did result in a disturbing discovery. The bug that had taken up residence in her ear, turned out to be none other than my old nemesis, the spider!

Anyone who is of the belief that people inherit phobias from their parents can now finally have their stupid theory crushed like a bug…

I hate spiders. You only have to read the hundreds of blog posts on the matter to know that.

My dad, on the other hand, is very indifferent towards them. He wouldn’t sit in an armchair by the fireplace, spider on his lap, gently stroking it as if you would a cat. Neither would he hunt down and murder one in cold blood, simply for running across his living room floor.

Luckily for mum – given her recent encounter – she is even more relaxed around these eight-legged beasts. While you or I* would place any found in our house back outside, my mum is happy to live alongside them, as if they were tenants.

* When I say “I”, I mean Claire. You wouldn’t find me going anywhere near a spider. If my wife was out of the house and I encountered one, I would flee.

In fact ‘tenants’ would not be an unfair description, considering the size of the monsters she resides alongside. She lives in a rather old building, with lots of nooks and crannies – a perfect lair for creatures fit for a Tolkien novel.

Throughout September, she will frequently send me photos of spiders the size of dining plates which she has discovered in her home, as if trying to reciprocate my kindness for all the cute pictures of Roman.

Most people her age who want an animal companion, will get themselves a cat or a rescue dog. Not my mother. Arachnids rule.

Cuddly!

Is it fair to say that whole ear invasion was as a result of her hospitality towards anything with an exoskeleton? Possibly.

Was it fair to wind her up something rotten about her ordeal? Of course not. Although suggesting that eggs may have been laid within her ear canal, or webs spun to catch flies, was rather funny.

People say that you should never tempt fate, and this is something that I may have inadvertently done, in writing Wednesday’s blog, about the girl with the spider hoody.

Yesterday afternoon, I was lying in bed,  following an enjoyable few hours spent downstairs with Claire and Roman.

Back in bed, my feet were getting hot, so Claire offered to take my socks off. Thank goodness she did, otherwise what was about to happen could have been a hell of a lot worse…

It was when my wife removed the duvet in order to get to my feet, that she screamed and jumped backwards, away from the bed.

It was clear to me what had scared her, and it wasn’t my smelly socks…

In the past, Claire has spotted what she believed to be spiders, only for her to realise that she had simply seen a bits of fluff.

However, this was no bit of fluff. This was a real life, running, biting, fire breathing spider. OK, I didn’t see it breathing fire, but that’s not to say that it couldn’t.

Small details aside, there was a large spider in bed with me, right next to my leg. A SPIDER IN FUCKING BED WITH ME!

I won’t apologise for swearing. This is my #MeToo moment. A spider was in bed with me! Nothing gave it the right to be there.

My natural survival instincts kicked in and I did what any grown man who values his life would do. I shrieked like a little girl.

When somebody’s life is in danger, it is said that they react with a ‘fight or fight’ response. Prior to my scooter accident and being confined to bed, I would have done just that.

Fight. That would involve me destroying the spider with a tin of bug killer. Either unleashing chemical warfare, by spraying it with poison, or literally hitting the beast with the tin itself, until it became a crushed mess.

“Bring it on, Spidey!”

The flight response would be a safer choice, which would simply be a case of running away and hoping that the spider would have died of natural causes by bedtime, when I would require the bed again.

With my current health situation, neither ‘fight’ or ‘flight’ were an option. I only have ‘shriek or screech’, both of which I immediately put into action.

All the commotion must surely have been heard by our neighbour and possibly even by people in the street. Given how I was screaming like I was being brutally murdered, I am surprised nobody phoned the police.

Come to think of it, what if I was being murdered? What if Leatherface, from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, turned up in my cul-de-sac and started hunting down Leeds fans? A fat lot of good my neighbours would be!

Downstairs, Roman had certainly heard our screams. Claire informed me that he was looking rather scared. I would like to think it was concern for his human parents, but doubt that very much.

Have you noticed that there has never been a TV show about a hero rabbit? Lassie – a dog. Flipper – dolphin. Skippy – kangaroo. There’s a reason for this…

Given the amount of love we show Roman, it’s a shame he didn’t help. Upon hearing our screams, he could have leapt from his run, ran up the stairs, jumped onto our bed and using his back legs, stamped on the spider. Honestly – I have more chance of being saved by a Giant African Land Snail.

Anyway, I digress…

When Claire ran out of the bedroom, in search of a glass to capture the unwanted guest, I seriously considered rolling out of bed to escape. I was aware that this would have resulted in more broken bones, but this was a case of desperate times, desperate measures and all of that.

I can picture the look of amusement on the faces of everyone in the hospital, when I would tell them how I had seriously injured myself because of a spider!

No doubt my story would be told by consultants at fancy dinner parties for years to come. A junior doctor would mention me in his autobiography. I would even end up trending on social media.

“Broken bones in Sideroom K. Found a spider in his bed, which frightened him away!”

Thankfully, I didn’t have to roll onto the bedroom floor. My heroic wife captured the bed monster, using an empty tube of sweets. The spider was then placed in the back garden – a far more appropriate location, although I am sure the arachnid would disagree.

Hopefully there will be no more spider blogs for some time.

As a result of yesterday’s incident, I have done something that I don’t normally do. I have put my foot down.

I have insisted that we keep a glass in the bedroom, in case of any further invasions.

Yesterday just showed how important it is to always be prepared for an attack. There was no glass or other means of capturing scary creatures upstairs. Quite frankly, it is lucky nobody was killed.

An important lesson learned.