I suppose it is my own fault.
I wrote last year about the peculiar problems I was having with wasps, who nest in my neighbour’s roof and then invade my bathroom in their thousands. It’s not very nice to walk, half asleep, into a bathroom that’s black and yellow with angry wasps. Especially when you aren’t wearing much.
I spoke to the neighbour several times about it. He was very nice, but he didn’t do anything about it.
I heard that the best way to treat bees is to smoke them. It makes them docile. I can empathise with that. So I thought I would try the same with the wasps.
There was a little hole in the neighbours roof that they flew in and out of, so I put some paper in and set fire to it. It didn’t burn.
So I added some petrol.
The neighbour took it very badly. I don’t know why. I did call the fire brigade for him, and they arrived very promptly, within four hours. I even offered to lend him my camping cooker. But he’s still not talking to me.
I don’t know what he is complaining about. I got rid of the wasps nest. And I don’t think they used their kitchen and living room that much. Actually, it was quite spectacular. Especially when the gas cylinders blew up.
They are demolishing the remains at the moment. They have a huge digger in there, and they are pulling down the walls of the shell. Every now and then, another section of wall comes down and all the plates in the kitchen rattle, as do the windows. And my teeth. Sandy is hiding under the bed and my nerves are in bits. Herself is having one of her nervous breakdowns.
As I say, I suppose I must take some of the blame.
Maybe five gallons of petrol was a bit excessive.