Slugs and snails, fed up with jet stream July, are sliding inside the house.
A loopy silver trail over the black socks drying on the bottom rail in the conservatory. (Men's socks, luckily.) The sort of pattern Next might like to try for a change.
Another meandering up the wall and over the door to where a fat snail must be holing up in the ceiling slat. One chillaxing behind the dog basket, like David Cameron.
Sometimes when we come back at night the headlights reveal an Olympic challenge of huge slugs racing up the house wall to the bathroom window. If one makes it inside it is my job to evict it. (I am also I/C spiders; in fact I/C everything except caterpillars.)
Outside the snails have eaten all the pak choi and are copulating openly. And the stupid birds, who have eaten all the redcurrants, are leaving them to enjoy themselves in peace.
|Giant African land snail (Could be worse)|