On arachnophobia

One of the things about having children is that you get to relive your childhood, this time though the eyes of your mother.

You are developing considerable sympathy for your mother.

However, sometimes you appreciate how much fun she must have had, and one of those times is every time you and the Star stop to look at the spiders on the way to school.

You like the school trip. It is, as far as this is possible in London, a rather pleasant and greenery filled route and half way along it are some bushes where the garden spiders squat in autumn.

Bugger ME but they grow to some size.

Anyway, not a school day goes by when you don’t get to have a good chat about spiders, count them, comment on how big or red some of them are getting, marvel at how many legs they have, discuss the concept of camoflage, count the number of flies they have caught or be disappointed because it is pissing down and all the spiders have taken shelter under the nearest leaf.

In fact, so fascinating does the Star find the spiders that Papa and he liberated one and set it loose on your balcony, where it promptly built a huge web conveniently in front of the window. You are slightly worried by the concept of a spider colony developing in your herb pots, but suppose the sacrifice is worth it for the enjoyment the Star gets watching it spin its silk of a morning.

About the one thing you the Star and don’t get to do is the thing that used to thrill you to bits when you were little and that’s see how the webs glisten in foggy weather. Fog is not much of a feature of inner city living.

This is a shame, but not as much as the problem that spiders give you, and always have done, the screaming heebie jeebies.

[You took a photo of the spiders today, but the photo enabled computer has turned its toes up today, so no dice. You may add it later.]

And in anticipation of Remembrance Day: a toddler’s Guide to the Imperial War Museum


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