A Bedroom Story

this is his 'not another photograph' face

I have a thing about spiders. Lots of people do. They don't like them because of all sorts of reasons. I don't like them because they cause an allergic reaction. So I avoid contact. When I worked in the Garden Centre this could be a problem because spiders come as part of the fixtures in greenhouses and sheds. As I am also allergic to wasp stings my boss used to worry. I didn't. I carried the auto injector everywhere and just got on with it. This allergic stuff makes you careful where you grab hold of things and pretty darned quick to react .....so.

this is my 'oh goodness he's got my camera' face

Now I want you to picture if you dare the bedroom that Mr M and I share. It's really quite ordinary with a standard size double bed, a couple of chests of drawers, a chair and a couple of bedside cabinets. The curtains are thick enough to exclude most of the light from the streetlights outside so it is pretty dark in there.
We are in bed. Now neither of us can ever be described as svelt or slim so there is no chance that we could be lying there and not be noticed but spiders don't care do they?
We were asleep. Something woke me, I don't want to think about what it was thank you.
I opened my eyes and in that split second of recognition I was aware that Mr M was still asleep and snoring softly behind me. We are both lying on our left side. I am facing the edge of the bed and he is facing the middle.
I opened my eyes and looked into the face of a spider whose body must have been the size of my thumbnail. It was big and it had attitude. It took a step towards me and as I registered the tap tap of it's feet on the pillow I went backwards. At. Speed.
I went under Mr M, out of the bed and up against the wall next to the light switch. Mr M was still revolving in the bed. He is frantically trying to unwrap his legs from the duvet and saying "What? What the h*ll happened?"
I am pressed back against the wall with my right hand pressed against my chest and my left hand pointing at my pillow while making the strange gasping noise that all husbands should know signifies extreme terror. Am I the only person who finds it impossible to breath out when scared? I have never yet screamed when frightened. yelped yes, sworn of course, but screamed? Not really. That's because I am too busy gasping and only breathing in.
Mr M eventually extricated himself from the covers and I managed to reverse the flow of air and hissed "Spider!", again flapping my hand in the direction of my pillow. (Mr M says I was flapping wildly in the general direction of Cardiff, but he exaggerates).
Mr M began the process of searching for the spider. he picked up and shook each pillow and handed them to me. He then gathered up the duvet took it out onto the landing and shook it over the bannisters. He lifted the mattress and finally moved the bed and the bedside tables.
He then told me that the sonic boom caused by the speed I moved at had probably caused the spider to explode and if I needed to exit the bed in future could I at least go over the top of him because revolving was not something he was built for.
I didn't get much more sleep that night.


This story has been brought to you through Storytelling Sunday, created by Sian from High in the Sky.