I spent a decent portion of today, traipsing around the streets of Edinburgh behind Carole as she went on a hunt for things. Trinkets. Knick-knacks. Doohickies. Wotnots.
Primarily for my mother to say thank you to her for uprooting herself from her house and coming to ours to look after Peppa.
I was being as helpful as I could be, which meant I was standing outside and sighing about how long it was taking Carole to look at the same stuff, but in a different shop, time and time again.
But unlike other bastard wasps, this one was just chilling out. It hung out with me while I waited. It buzzed about and sat in my hair for a bit. I ran my hand through my hair to dislodge it – not really realising the wasp was what I could feel in my hair – only to find it just mooching around my hand then. Ooo danger, wasp. Arrrgh etc. It literally just walked around my hand for a bit. I moved it on and it flew about me, landed on my shoulder. I was wearing a black t-shirt, in the sun, so it was warm. I don’t know if that was the reason for this visit or if I just smelt pleasant to a wasp. Whatever it was, I couldn’t get it to leave me alone.
Eventually it went. I had to wave at it a few times but it went. And you’re not supposed to wave at wasps are you because it makes them angry.
It didn’t make it angry. It just buggered off.
Bit later on, we are in the queue for a show and another wasp shows up. Maybe even the same wasp.
We shoo it away.
Then Carole feels sick, light-headed and wheezy.
We laugh about it. Because constriction of the airways is funny, and she sits through the whole of the show we’re seeing with her inhaler (which expired in June, so you know…) out. Just in case.
As we’re leaving the show, we discover she’s been stung. Possibly by the wasp. Maybe the same wasp I met earlier. A jealous wasp who clearly wants me for itself.
It could have been like the end of My Girl.
I’m thinking she should probably go and get tested for her reaction. You know, just in case…