“How are you with spiders, Lou?”
“Fine, why?”
“Can you come and remove one from my terrace wall then?”
“Why do you want to move it?”
“Because she’s scaring the hell out of me and she’s pregnant”
2 minutes later.
“It’s not pregnant Sophi, it’s just fat”
“Well, heave the thing over the wall then”
Which my darling nephew less than delicately did, just before Alice’s jaws snapped around the bulbous arachnid. I may have a deep and reasonable fear of such creatures but I didn’t want a death on my conscience nor did I want her to meet up with the other one which had just disappeared under my water fountain.
It wasn’t until later that evening when the thought struck me that I’d literally harboured my phobia right next to my chest for a good few hours without a clue as to imminent danger before Lou’s rescue. And for that I blame Denis. After all, it was he who gave me the bamboo with the suggestion of making wind chimes or something out of the tubes – I’ve been diverting into other areas of creativeness of late so I took them down to the workshop to cut to size. I then carried the whole lot tucked into my chest back up to the sun-drenched terrace/ fabulous space to awaken my artistic aura. It wasn’t until I decided to then snap the tubes in half length-wise that I was greeted by the first uninvited guest – the one who as far as I know is still under the fountain before its chubby friend popped out. No, I didn’t take any photographs, finding my phone was not the first thing that sprang to mind but think eight legs, big tum and spotted. Oddly the whole experience didn’t freak me out like it normally would, in fact I would argue that my laid-back attitude was remarkably unlike me. Must be something to do with with the weather or perhaps at least, the hope that there is coming a higher chance of the thermometer going up rather than down.
I’m sure there are some out there who don’t care too much for the sun but for me, that great big orb is Nature’s battery charger. Let’s face it, we’ve had a unusually wet winter so being able to get out and about without having your eye poked out with an umbrella can’t help but be good for the soul. Sitting outside a cafe in the centre of Limoux on Friday morning, sipping coffee and people watching after a mooch around the weekly market stall offerings, it suddenly dawned on me just how long it’d been since I’d properly visited the town and how much I’ve missed the chit chat and busyness of a marché. Lou suggested I should set up a Witch Wackle slap bang in the middle of the action but to be honest, I don’t have that kind of confidence and early morning starts in Sophi’s world are in a different time zone. And it’s far more stress-free to peruse other people’s wares than to watch people peruse yours.
So there we go. February has disappeared behind the seasonal doors and with it, we hope, winter. Yet, as much as one was glad to say goodbye to last month, with it came a moment of poignancy as Friday also marked the first anniversary of Mumo’s passing. A whole year without her seems impossible to get your head around; there isn’t a day that goes passed when you aren’t reminded of something she would do or say which is why I know she would be happy that Lou and Denis finally got round to tidying up the plot at L’Horte. I’d like to think she’d also be pleased with me still fag-free and a lot more sober these days and weirdly, becoming a little calmer I’m told too. Even with an unaccounted for arachnid hopefully still under my water fountain…
“Spring is far more than just a changing of seasons; it’s a rebirth of the spirit.”(Toni Sorenson)
Widow plus woofs 