This, I think, is going to be an interesting summer - especially for my neighbours. They don't know it yet, (they're away on holiday) but they have a wasps' nest in their roof.
As they're great ones for entertaining in the garden on warm weekend afternoons and evenings, this could prove something of a hindrance to their social activities.
For wasps are such gregarious little creatures aren't they? They do love a good party - all that tempting food and drink and lovely bare flesh to sting. Oh, what fun - and I say that with absolutely no malice, even though I've never been invited to one of their get-togethers.
Actually it was The Mother who noticed the wasps. She was busy tidying my garden, an activity I encourage as I believe most elderly people benefit, physically and mentally, from an hour or two's unpaid labour on behalf of their middle-aged offspring.
She hurried indoors, where I was drinking coffee and relaxing with the Sunday papers, to tell me about her discovery. The Mother lives in fear of being stung by wasps, even though it's never happened, whereas I, having been stung several times in my life, am quite blase about the likelihood.
"It's only like being stabbed with a red hot needle," I reassured her.
"People can die from wasp stings," she said.
"Now look," I said, "that's a pretty remote possibility and only if you're allergic. If you don't annoy them they're not going to be interested in you."
Having once been stung by a wasp while asleep in the garden, I knew this wasn't quite the case but there was still quite a bit of tidying up to be done out there and I didn't want to discourage her.
"You've never seen them swarming when they're angry," she replied defiantly.
"Neither have you," I said, realising that the situation was getting out of control and that I might well find myself having to finish her work.
The Mother was not deterred: "Swarming wasps are dangerous, they attack, they're just like pack animals..."
She was really getting into her stride now and I could sense a summer of discontent about to hatch, along with the young wasps.
For when I went out I saw they were, are, young wasps. "Hundreds of them," said The Mother. "Dozens," I replied, though actually I think she's right.
"You'll have to let your neighbours know they've got a wasps' nest - they'll need to get the pest control people in," said The Mother. "They'll send someone round to smoke them out."
"You could do that," I suggested. "Just pop up on the roof with your lighter and your Silk Cut..."
Like Queen Victoria, she was not amused.
"You didn't think it was so funny when you found that colony of ants in the garden last year," she said sharply. "You were convinced armies of them would be marching through your house, eating everything in their path, destroying the foundations..."
"OK, OK, you win, let's smoke 'em out!" I said.
And you know, if I were a wasp I think that really would make me very angry. Guess The Mother might well see her swarm after all.
Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.
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