Welcome to my blog. I hope you enjoy reading some of the pieces I've chosen for this site. 'First lines are easy, it's all the other lines that are difficult'... Moliere said something like that. And he knew a thing or two about writing.
What have I been doing today? Well, I've been trying to persuade a host of unwanted visitors that they should find alternative lodgings for the winter. In this, I'm referring to the hundreds of Ladybirds (ladybugs) that have taken up residence in the window frame and around the blind thingy in an upstairs bedroom.
A TV programme some time ago forewarned of this alien invasion. Evidently these critters are Spanish in origin and almost twice the size of our native British Ladybird. Just as the infiltration of Spanish Bluebells are overpowering our more delicate native variety, so these Spanish bugs are eating our native ones out of house and home.
'Ladybird, Ladybird fly away home...' goes the nursery song we grew up with, but when she gets there, her Spanish cousins have eaten every greenfly in sight.... the cupboard is bare. So what should I do to these creatures? They're difficult to dislodge and persistant in their efforts to return to the snuggled warmth of their bedfellows in the cosy crevices they've found at both ends of a window blind and around the window frame. It's a dilemma, to be sure. For these tiny spotted creatures are part of our childhood folklore and often our first introduction the up-close-and-personal scrutiny of bug life. We're not afraid of them. We love them. We've spent happy days counting their spots. We've sung songs to them and shared with them our concerns for their offspring: '...fly away home, your house is on fire and your children are alone...'
I know they're one of the 'goodies' in the garden. They eat their way through tons of greenfly (still not enough in my opinion) but that does not entitle them to house-room for the winter. We just DON'T WANT THEM IN OUR BEDROOMS. Oh they're very well behaved. They don't run around or anything. Apart from poo-ing and discarding bits of legs here and there, you wouldn't know they were in residence. But I'm afraid, somehow, they've just got to go. I can't bring myself to spray them. This might be a job for the vacuum cleaner... oh dear. (cough, splutter!!)