Today I almost had a heart attack.
My sister is going away soon and asked to borrow the suit cases I’d just used on my recent holiday.
Into the garage I went. I moved the mountain of un ironed holiday clothes off the top, and began to lug them into the house.
As I got to the third one, I detected an humming noise….strange, it appeared to be getting louder every time I moved the case.
I brought it into the house and the noise got louder. My sister helpfully suggested that maybe I’d left a vibrating sex toy inside…
I opened the case, thinking that maybe one of the kids had left a ( non sexual) toy inside. Nope nothing.
I then become aware of movement… on my boob… I look down and all I see is yellow and black… which is now buzzing angrily.
I realise it is a bee. I detest bees. I know ” they don’t hurt you if you don’t hurt them”Whatever. They scare the hell out of me.
I do the only logical thing in this situation . I scream loudly. I then start flapping my arms. I then start stripping my jacket off. I pause briefly, considering whether to rip my top off… I do not. That would mean the beast would be in my hair.
Instead I run towards my sister screaming “IT’S ON ME! IT’S ON ME!”
She does that sisterly thing and runs screaming in the opposite direction.
I shake my top and hear a thud as the thing hits the carpet.
From three feet away, my sister and I peer at the bee…. we then realise this is no ordinary bee. It is a monster. It is around 2 inches long. This is a foreign bee….
We both start screaming. The monster bee gets a size 5 converse on its head 4 times. It does not die.
I am sweating. My heart is pounding. It might as well be a tiger lying on my carpet.
A hair moves on my shoulder…. I start hysterically hitting myself thinking this is another member of the bee family come to visit.
The foreign beast moves on the floor. More screaming from us. This is like some horror film. I picture it suddenly jumping up and fatally stinging me.
I grab a glass and usher it over the bee. I take it outside and throw it on the patio.
I consult Google and see it’s called a ” Bee wolf” it would appear we’d brought it back as an unwanted souvenir from the Canaries.
A pigeon lands on the patio and peers at the bee. It then thinks ” Sod that, I’m not after a 3 course meal” and flies off.
For around 3hrs after this traumatic experience, I suffer the effects. A leaf blew into the car, I almost crash, the buzz of a fridge in Sainsbury’s sends me running away. Basically, anything that doesn’t resemble a bee, I have a panic attack over.
The husband returns home 4hrs later and the bee wolf is still kicking away on the patio. He finishes it off and puts it on the bird table.
It is still there. No bird is eating anything half it’s own body weight.
Meanwhile, I daren’t go in the garage. I guess that means the holiday clothes won’t get ironed… like ever!