The Sting
Finally the thick inky molasses that envelop the winter months are receding. Spring is here, time to put aside that Christmas jumper and embrace the light.
With this change of season come a variety of insects, the most annoying of which being the wasp.
I am no friend of this most aggressive of creatures, our relationship beginning on a sore note when I was stung by a hibernating queen on Christmas day in church while still a toddler. As a result of this I am now prone to involuntary dances when around wasps.
It is with this in mind that I was in Norfolk last week enjoying lunch outside with friends, when a rather large ASBO ridden hornet type creature joined the meal, uninvited I might add, and started sipping my glass of Cabernet. I felt a little as though its deserved a drink on behalf of its relatives who are employed by some vineyards to control the pests that attack grape vines.
It emerged a bit tipsy and started to make a nuisance of itself calling in a few friends to compound the issue. The other wasps clearly with more refined palates from many gate- crashed meals, seemed to think that pate and chutney were an important precursor to the wine.
At this point I remembered hearing that holding your breath is a good defence to limit the CO2 which is irresistible to wasps, but reminded myself that death is marginally less appealing than a sting. Past experience telling me that praying was futile, I started a mild form of my dance as I was in polite company. I was pleasantly surprised to see others joining in.
Eventually the now drunken marauders buzzed off, this time without a fight, probably weirded out by the strange spontaneous uncool strutting.
With this change of season come a variety of insects, the most annoying of which being the wasp.
I am no friend of this most aggressive of creatures, our relationship beginning on a sore note when I was stung by a hibernating queen on Christmas day in church while still a toddler. As a result of this I am now prone to involuntary dances when around wasps.
It is with this in mind that I was in Norfolk last week enjoying lunch outside with friends, when a rather large ASBO ridden hornet type creature joined the meal, uninvited I might add, and started sipping my glass of Cabernet. I felt a little as though its deserved a drink on behalf of its relatives who are employed by some vineyards to control the pests that attack grape vines.
It emerged a bit tipsy and started to make a nuisance of itself calling in a few friends to compound the issue. The other wasps clearly with more refined palates from many gate- crashed meals, seemed to think that pate and chutney were an important precursor to the wine.
At this point I remembered hearing that holding your breath is a good defence to limit the CO2 which is irresistible to wasps, but reminded myself that death is marginally less appealing than a sting. Past experience telling me that praying was futile, I started a mild form of my dance as I was in polite company. I was pleasantly surprised to see others joining in.
Eventually the now drunken marauders buzzed off, this time without a fight, probably weirded out by the strange spontaneous uncool strutting.
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