Didn’t want to write here before in case I jinxed myself, but I really can’t stand spiders. Little spiders make dust-collector webs in awkward corners I can’t get to with the dusters; Daddy-long-leg spiders creep me out with the way they move and, again, lurk in corners I can’t reach with the hoover (yes, sorry, I’m afraid I vacuum them up with the extension tube thingy – that’s as close as I can bear to get to them); House spiders . . . Well. I can’t even be in the same room as a House spider. DH has to deal with those.
Cardinal spiders – I’m very grateful that I have only ever seen one of those. I can’t even think about them without swearing in my head.
I would not do well in Australia. DH has been there many times and has lots of exciting stories about the large spiders that hide behind curtains and then literally jump onto people when they open the curtains. And big ones that explode green goo everywhere if they get run-over or trodden on (not that he ever deliberately did either, but some people do) – he said it was like Alien: “It’s got a wonderful defence mechanism. You don’t dare kill it.”
And yet I’m absolutely fine with rats and mice, bats in the garden, birds in the house, snakes and slow worms, slugs and snails, the remains of half-eaten nameless ‘crunchy’ things the cat used to bring in during the night and eat on the bedroom floor in the dark . . .