Oh my, I am in such a state today. Before we came to Perth in June last year, my husband insisted on sending me for 'Spider Therapy' as, due to growing up with a petrified mother, I had a bit of a phobia. Some use. 4am, woke with the 'fan blowing my hair against my face and right arm'..... grabbed a drink from side of bed then realised my hair was blowing under my armpit and all the way down my body.... crap.... light on, jumped up (again, this has happened before, always false alarm much to husb's disgusted sighs)... exclaimed I was being 'crawled on'..... nothing on the cream bottom sheet. Lifted my pillow.... BANG!! Huge great ugly hairy 8-legged freak running along.... don't ask where I found my confidence but I grabbed my 'thong' (flip-flop to fellow poms) and battered the hell out of it before collapsing in a heap of tears and hyperventilation. I am so obsessive with cleanliness, keeping fly screens shut etc... am devastated. The only huge great hairy freak I ever wish to share my bed with is my husband.... who as an afterthought made his own attempt to batter the already-dead spider. And he says 'that could happen anywhere in the world'..... 35 years in Sheffield and happens now?? I think not....



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, now they're the really BIG ones.

,not arsed about them if im awake,keep thinking one of those white tips could bite yer arl fellah and putrify the flesh
luvs sadie-the cleaning lady

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