In the meantime, it's that time of year when humongous spiders come out of the woodwork and scuttle across the floor, lurk on the ceilings, and leap out from the folds in the curtains. I brushed one off my shoulder in the middle of the night last night - sent it flying across the room, and it's not the first time I have done that in the last few weeks! Everyone in this household is ridiculously scared of them. Mr Gaucho grew up in the Argentine, so I suppose I can be a little forgiving of his dislike of any sized spider, because over there they are probably poisonous. The great big things we are sharing our home with at the moment are known in this family as Basingstoke spiders. Goodness knows why, but that's what I have always called them. Anyway, I could do without them, but I don't like to hurt them and it's always me that ends up having to scoop them up in a cloth, and unceremoniously dump them out of the window.
The upside of spiders are their webs. Wondrous works of art which, in the early morning, glisten with necklaces of tiny dewdrops.