“Why are you still here?” I say to the seven-legged spider who crouches halfway up the wall of the staircase. He was here earlier in the day and now, five hours later, he hasn’t moved.
“OK, just wait there, I’ll be back in a minute,” I tell him. It’s late, I’m exhausted but I rush to my flat, dump my bags and pick up a glass and a postcard.
He’s still there on my return. Pushing the glass towards him I sigh as he curls himself into the corner of the wall – it’s impossible to catch him there. Seemingly untroubled by his missing leg, he scoots up and down the wall at speed. With unlikely athleticism, he jumps down onto the stairs and proceeds to run back and forth along the groove of each stair in turn.
Eventually I trap him against the back of a stair, slide the postcard between the glass and the carpet and rush outside. Depositing him in a flower bed, I leave him to take his chances in the wild.
This happened last week – so either the original spider returned or this is a new one. Anyway – now he has another chance in the outside world.
“When are you next free?” The message comes through this morning from the Captain.
Yay! He wants to see me!
“How about Tuesday? Or next Thursday? Or lunch tomorrow?” I reply.
That was at 9.33am this morning.
All day I check my phone every couple of minutes. Obviously that was the wrong answer, as now it’s 7.03pm and no message back from him.
It’s frustrating almost to death and there is nothing I can do about it, I think, listening to my artichoke bubbling away on the hob…