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| ... Or, What Katy Did |
Behold, Dear Reader, the strange visitor to our bedroom the other morning. We do seem to get a fair bit of wildlife inside the casa (of the six- and eight-legged variety, mind), but it's the first time a Bush Cricket or Common Garden Katydid (Caedicia simplex) has lobbed in without a by your leave. It may have been attracted by the marquetry foliage on the bedhead, but it's still a feat to have made it up a couple of floors. Of course, it was a long way down again but I expect they're hardy beasts and no harm was done by my deft swipe with a jar and swift dispatch out the window*.
Uninvited, unwelcome and, I should say, un-housetrained as there was a calling card which also needed dispatching, but I wasn't totally heartless when Mr. P declared upon telephonic consultation that I should just kill it!
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| Just bad manners, thank you very much |
And speaking of more unwanted bugs about the bedroom, we were also subject to dose of Covid. Today I tested negative at last and took my pale and uninteresting self off to ballet to celebrate. A couple of fellow dancers did caution against overdoing it, lest long-Covid might visit as well, but I'm a complete bunhead these days and cancelled six classes while I was incommoded. I've some catching up to do!
* Unless, like the eponymous Katy in
What Katy Did, the fall did grave injury to it and it is destined to lie in bed half-paralysed and sulky at the injustice of it all for the rest of its little life. Mind you, I did rather adore this book as a child, and Katy's miraculous recovery of body and spirit is what I should call more of an Improving Read for young girlish minds than the dreary suggestions of
Mr. MonadGPT, The Book of Common Prayer and
The Art of Dying Well.
Image credits: Flying With Hands
