August 1st, 2017


It's not as if they're so very great a nuisance. They're not attacking us. Once they've entered the house (and I haven't worked out yet where the inlet is)  they congregate at the windows to buzz there frantically- flying into a sky that has suddenly gone solid on them- until their motors run down and they drop to the floor or window ledge, walk about a bit then die. Every so often I have a go at clearing the living ones out. I trap them against the window with a plastic cup, slide a forty year old art gallery catalogue between the glass and the cup's mouth, move this improvised  prison to an open window and shake them free. But there are always more. And the little furry corpses pile up.

I'm afraid of needles but I'm not afraid of wasp stings- which is odd...