So I’ve just had one of the most terrifying experiences of my life.
Okay. I’m exaggerating. But still, terrifying.
Sitting in our hotel room here in Cornwall, minding our own business when a massive spider pops its terrifying head out from the curtain.
Huge. Massive. Bigger than any spider than I’ve ever seen. I freaked out like a little girl. There was actually a moment (when the fecker decided to run across the ground) that I jumped up onto the bed, shrieking.
So while Mr Thomas ran around the room with a teacup trying to trap this spider, I thought how ironic it was that I, from Australia, home to dangerous, poisonous animals, has found creatures in England far more terrifying.
The spiders here are huge. They also have these things called daddy long legs which look like giant mosquitos.
There are these things called hedgehogs which toy companies try to make us think are cute, but anything which is covered in spikes and hides in gardens, only coming out at night, cannot be cute.
There’s a frog at my in-laws house that likes to hide by the back door and could jump out at me at any moment.
The seagulls are huge. Like, massive. Beasts of a bird.
There are evil-eyed squirrels.
Wasps seem to appear whenever you step outside, flying around you in a threatening kind of way until you do the mad arm-flapping half dance half run to get away from them.
In the country, the sheep and cows stand in the middle of the road and stare at you in a defiant manner, as if challenging you to a fight.
There’s just too much to contend with here. My anxiety is at an all-time high.
Mr Thomas, I’m sure you are all interested to know, accidentally killed the spider. I’m kind of glad for it.
Other than that England is beautiful. Terrifying, but beautiful.