Now we have ‘fat bottomed spiders’ to go with our fat bottomed hens! (Temporarily!)

I am dead pleased with my office. (How is this related? I hear you ask. All will be revealed.) It’s comfortable, light and cool. It’s quiet, except when there are hens shouting to tell us they’ve laid an egg. I can see nothing but ‘nature’ from my windows. All in all it’s a pretty nice place to be.

Well, unless you look closely at my immediate surroundings. The truth is, I’ve never cleaned it since we’ve been here and my suspicion is that Mad Maureen hadn’t cleaned it in a long time before that. We still believe that when things were ‘difficult’ for her that she just shut the door and walked away from the problem. The flat above the garage is a case in point. So, I sit in amongst the cobwebs and detritus of the life that went on over there before we owned the house and work. I have become immune to it and don’t even notice it now!

It’s got no heating so in the winter it’s cold and damp – we’ve experienced that already in the aftermath of moving in, not to mention that it’s got rotten windows so even though I love it now, I may have other views as we move past summer and into autumn. I have discussed with David a short-term plan to see us through to next year, when we’ve got bigger/more sophisticated plans to heat the space.

I keep promising myself that I’ll get round to doing a ‘spring-clean’ in there but I’m always so busy and cleaning always seems to drop to the bottom of my list of things to do. (Filthy person that I am.)

Imagine my extreme displeasure when I was in ‘the smallest room’ over there and noticed this sight. This nest is very well-constructed and seems to be quite the des-res for this spider. The trouble is, that it’s in our only functioning bathroom and I use it each morning for my daily ablutions. I can’t imagine myself feeling all that comfortable tomorrow knowing that the spider could pop in for a shower himself at any moment.

The only solution as far as I can see is ‘Death by Dyson’ – you know the one – you get your Dyson, stick its nozzle somewhere close by, switch it on and watch the spider go flying into the vortex, along with half-a-tonne of dog hair and assorted other bits of nasty stuff. Eight legs and a fat, hairy arse are no match for my Animal’s lifetime filters! Do I sound a bit over-excited at this? You bet I am!

We were considering the origins of Stonehenge last year.