England is a really buggy place.
I was surprised at first, but considering the humidity, it’s not really all that shocking. There’s an amazing assortment of creepy crawlies here, 98.5% of which I am totally OK with.
Except all of them seem to want to be in my house. In everyone’s house, really. And who can blame them? Outside, between September and June, is pretty gross.
Truthfully, I’m not even that fussed about the bugs that make it into the house. Sure, I’d rather not have to include ‘vacuuming cobwebs off every godforsaken corner’ in the list of weekly chores, but it’s not actually that big a deal. Most of what we see day to day are the humble woodlouse, daddy long legs spiders (which hardly count as spiders), a species of mosquito that only bites cows, some misguided wasps (which are actually quite bad this year) and the occasional crane fly when we’ve left the windows open too wide at night.
But there is one thing which I CANNOT ABIDE.
THE AWFUL FUCKING TERROR THAT IS THE EUROPEAN HOUSE SPIDER.
Do not google that.
I told you so.
Please stop screaming.
Apparently we are now into the time of year where they come inside in search of a mate. We have so far had four come out into the open and make themselves known. Scuttling out from dark corners or underneath cabinets.
And they are HUGE. I had to deal with one the other day that was too big to step on – its legspan was bigger than the width of my perfectly average-sized foot. I ended up throwing a magazine on top of it, and then stepping on *that*. Ugh.
I had started to control the awful panic by convincing myself they were confining themselves to the ground floor, until last night. We were up on the first floor watching TV, minding our own non-spidery business, when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.
One of those motherfuckers was making a b-line straight across the living room toward us. I screamed and leaped up onto the couch. Neil screamed (because I screamed), spilled his tea, then valiantly bludgeoned the thing to death with my slipper.
Apparently nowhere is safe.
So if you happen to be driving around Oxford, and catch a glimpse through a window of a terrified-looking woman tromping around indoors in welly boots (very effective spider squishers) with a crazed look in her eye, that’d be me. Please send help. And insecticide.
I googled it, even though you told me not to. I’m not ever stepping foot in England. You can forget it! lol
September 9th, 2013 at 5:25 pm
I told you so! And I’m sorry. Do you need a hug? I did.
I am *so* glad that you did not write this posting before I went to England. Because I probably would have canceled my trip. And I didn’t even Google it because for the love of all that is good in the world, why would anyone Google anything that would show them something like that?? (I was pretty terrified just reading your post in case I should scroll down and see a photo!).
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Spiders are soulless killing machines, they are organized, and they are out to get us.
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Jen, I’m going to take your word for it and not Google it. The last time I did that was with silver fish. I regretted it all night.
Is it bad that your post made me feel slightly better about my own War on Spiders? I moved awhile ago and get wolf spiders here in this new place. They don’t sound as big as their European cousins… but they’re so hairy. GOD.
We were talking about these buggers at a board meeting I attended this week… the ones running across the floor are usually the males apparently (or so I was told) and the females mostly hang out in dark corners, behind furniture, etc. Which is all very interesting and everything, but not very reassuring. I hate them too.