Last year it worked very well and my blood pressure was completely untroubled by any of them. This year, it has worked well until now. Two night in a row the corner of my eye has caught movement of a black and scrabbly nature by the fireplace - yes, on each occasion a spider doing a clog dance and probably shouting "Yah! Catch me if you can, loser!" Apparently, they don't all get the message and leg it through the window or door anyway.
Well, I did - catch it, I mean - each time. I have developed a new strategy which involves a mad dash into the kitchen for the fly spray while Keith keeps his beady eye on the creature's whereabouts, followed by a prolonged spraying of said fly spray in its general direction, because by this time, it has gone to ground under the heap of cables behind the TV stand, followed by a good stamping on it as it craftily emerges from behind the armchair, thinking it has thrown us off the track. The first night Keith did the stamping, to the detriment of his tender feet, so he can't do it any more. Which, in itself is a bit of a disappointment. After all, what does one have a man in the house for except to kill spiders?
(Maybe you'd better not answer that!)