Today a spider scared the living daylights out of me from beyond whatever the arachnid equivalent of the grave is. It must have thought "jings, a'm feeling a wee bit oan the peeky side, a'm goan find masael a wee hidin' place fr'm which ma wee emaciated corpse can scare the shit out of some poor bugger", and it went on to select for that hiding place my gigantic teacup, which was at the back of the cupboard awaiting the winter.
Since it now is winter, I went today to get the gigantic teacup and very nearly required a change of trousers when I went to make the tea and found the spider, which was about the size of Hampton Court Palace, coiled for the spring in the bottom of the cup. It was, as I have said, a big cup. The fact that the spider was long dead and couldn't have sprung anywhere, never mind right at my face while flailing its big hairy legs (as they usually attempt to), did nothing to ameliorate the fright, and I fear I'll never be able to drink tea ever again.
From now in it's gin, straight from the bottle.
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