It's that spider time of year again and this year there is a bumper crop of them! This is particularly noticeable in the Sock's garden where their webs are strung across every pathway ready to snare an innocent passerby. The Socks don't like spiders - the Bedsock is particularly phobic and given a free rein would run around the garden spraying the web-crawlers with Doom, Doom, Doom a chemical spray hastening the death of both the spider and planet.
Any activity in the garden will be accompanied by screams of "Spidercheck! Spidercheck!" the Sock's cue to rush out and inspect the flapping Bedsock for crawly critters. Once whilst performing the spidercheck the Sock noticed a large garden spider swinging on a silken thread attached to the Bedsock's hair. The arc of the spider swing was getting wider and wider and just about to enter the periphery of the Bedsock's vision when the Sock bravely snatched it out of the air and hurled it away. "What was that!!" squealed the Bedsock in alarm "Just a bit of leaf, darling.." the Sock was in a good mood or she might have cruelly hinted at the close encounter.
The Doom, Doom, Doom had its place on the Socks 'packing for cottage rental holidays' list. Staying in a slightly run down cottage in the Gorge Du Tarn the Bedsock had been very nearly attacked by a large French spider lurking in the toilet. The small, dark, room had then been copiously sprayed by a fear-crazed Bedsock but the spider had merely dashed off behind the toilet waiting for it's next victim. Everytime the Sock used the toilet after that she had to balance her feet on two strategically placed toilet rolls in case the spider rushed out at them.