I was confronted in the bathroom last night by the biggest, nastiest, fattest spider I have seen in a long time - obviously one of the many 'obese' characters in the country that the government is so worried about.
Nothing for it but to call on Dad to ride to the rescue, which he did, with an air of resignation indicative of having had to do this many times before. If the thought went through his head that at my age I should be able to deal with my own spiders, he gave no sign of it.
Some foot stamping and scuffling ensued.
"I think I got it. It should be all-right now."
Not enough! For a peaceful night's sleep I need firm assurances that the creature has been stamped on, flattened to kingdom come and that there will never be remotest chance that it will resurface to raise my blood pressure again. A demonstration of the mangled body, albeit viewed through half closed eyes and the wrong end of binoculars, would be even more reassuring...