Come Fly With Me

It's getting round to the time of year when these horrible things will be in their element. When I was in Much Wenlock last April, I happened to go wandering down a mile-long footpath through fields where a Biblical plague of the fuckers had inexplicably descended. Every yard of the way, I was swishing the air with a pop bottle, trying hard to keep my mouth clamped shut, as the flying horde swarmed around me. Imagine my utter delight when I reached the end of the path to find that it led nowhere, and I had to walk all the way back again.

It's almost enough to make you fond of spiders. Almost, but not quite.