Of the Creepies and the Crawlies

I figure that alongwith my rather poor grasp of different cloths and associated materials, I'm not very good at identifying various greens either. Any trip to Tescos remains mind boggling as you're assaulted by shelf upon shelf of greens and herbs, and even green spices which don't even include green chillies. I suppose coriander and lettuce have their subtle, or not so, differences. Of course my failings probably go deeper as in my last trip I managed to pick up blue fresh range eggs. I didn't even know it was possible to lay blue eggs, and for some reason nobody seems to want to eat them. They look like chicken eggs, probably just a severe case of depression.

But going back to the greens, what may or may not have been corriander was seen yesterday in a quarter plate looking remarkably like a lizard. And no ordinary lizard, a good Class A chipkali for which I would generally go dashing out the house to summon a hunter for quick and efficient disposal. Therefore, what folows is by no means a wave of nostalgia and fond memories of better days long gone by. Rather, it's a less than complete run through of what I had forgotten would be my greatest fear upon returning to Pakistan this summer.

Sliding the bolt shut, turn the key in its huge lock three times, no less. Attach the chain and make sure the main door is definitely secure. The four rather flimsy shutters on its side remain a source of worry, but then fashion has its costs. From there it would be on to pour some water and have that last drink before calling it a night, or at least before marching off upstairs after turning off all the lights. Oh but then I'd always forget to chain the laundry room. So there I'd go, reach for the chain and fall back a mile. Because oh lucky me there would always be something hiding behind the sliding doors. A shade of green that I imagine in all sorts of unlikely places now, and comparable to things we shan't mention in civilised conversation. Streaking, elegant... phaw! A mad dash would ensue to unfasten all the locks on either the back kitchen door or the main door and call my brave warrior, weilding his battle-weary jharoo like the mightiest sword, eyes darting from left to right in search of his wary prey. I suppose he enjoyed the hunt, though it was always part of the plan to catch and dispose, while I watched from a fair distance. Mafioso. Oh but the smarter ones could hide. Holes would appear to swallow them up and the battlefield would be left with the choking smell of insectide set to stun. There would always be something to lend victory to the warrior though, at the least a detached tail. Gah... horrible things they are. And only one of my return worries. Worse was when it would show up in my room or bathroom, causing it to turn into a restricted area until the enemy was neutralised. Sleeping with a potential slimer on the ceiling ready to drop is not an acceptable option. Occassionally defeat would mean bunking out in my mothers room on the sofa bed or one of the many guest rooms if a suitable temperature and bed linen could easily be assembled.
Yeah lizzie's were bad. But there's worse. Cockroaches. The hidden enemy that has forever put me off dates. The edible sort. Worse than the former. Killable, but never could I do it. The horrid squish. The possibility of failure due to the creautres resilience. And its ability to appear out of nowhere. Any nocturnal use of a room would only come after a complete search for crawlers, but roaches have a habit of coming where there were none in the first scan. But you know what makes them really bad. Ultra super bad. They can freakin FLY! Oh that's just the worst. Ever afraid of disturbing one should it try to zoom for the face. I remember once throwing a tissue box on top of one in desperation to buy the arriving Rescue Squad some time lest it run away. The whole box started to move! Oh tarnations. It's just the squishy squelchy really, and the possibility of failure. But in one way roaches are kind. I wouldn't spray them coz they can fly, but they're kind in the way that when they'e dead you know it. They conveniently belly-flop. An inverted one is a dead one, no matter how long its legs keep rattling.
The last enemy is one I can't remember too well. But you can hear it. In the night, when the lights are off, the chirping begins. Chirping. Hah! Chirping is what birds do. Supposedly a pleasant sound. Not when you hear it in a room at night. Not all fo them were grasshoppers. Marblehoppers. Long springs for back legs, able to leap whole slabs in a single bound. Killable. Sprayable. But egads what a squelcher they make. I don't like mots either. Whole load of creepers with wings. Ok so there's four of them. I can kill a moth, with a tissue box usually. Well if I could. It just keeps flying and diving and diving and flying.

Yeah well I am looking forward to coming/going back this summer. Just a few things I had forgotten. The later ones, the night ones. The vampires and werewolves of Lahore. Maybe I'm braver now. But keeping in mind my run in late last summer with a wasp and the ensuing fairly comic yet hardly courageous scenes, I somehow doubt the ability of certain characteristics to change. That said though, in other places outside of my own home, only roaches really bother me. The rest, not so much. Another plus point is witht he Japanese people now living on the lower half, and the intense levels of fumigation et all, the actual presence of creepy crawlies is really rare. But I can never let down my guard. Ever.

Because you never know.