The spider that came to tea

*Yawn

Can you catch a yawn by reading one? Are you yawning now?

Anyway, the reason I am yawning today is because last night I saw London Aunt. She organised a brilliant private view of student photography, paintings, sculpture, graphics and jewellery at a central London gallery and I went along to support her.

It was excellent fun and I nosied at the work while sipping beer and eating delicious canapés. Blanco and Mrs Blanco – London Aunt’s neighbours – were there too, and it was great to catch up with them both. Blanco is going on some extreme survival week soon where you only get food for the first two days and the rest of the time you ‘live off the land’ – sounds deeelightful…

Not

Anyway, afterwards we all piled into a taxi and went back to London Aunt’s house for some takeaway from a new restaurant that had dropped a menu through her letterbox. London Aunt ordered it on the phone while Mrs Blanco and I opened some bubbly and then all of a sudden I became aware of London Aunt pointing at the floor. Looking down I realised she had spotted the most enormous spider – I am not kidding, it was about the size of a coaster and had thick hair legs.

I screamed, Mrs Blanco screamed, the cat flew out of her peaceful slumber and skated across the kitchen work surface sending post, magazines and a lone satsuma flying. The man on the other end of the phone at the restaurant probably thought he was on the phone to a load of nutters…

Um…

Anyway, in the commotion we assumed dinner had been ordered so settled down to wait for it and catch up with another lot of London Aunt’s Neighbours – The Human Resources – who had popped in to say hello.

One hour later…

No dinner. Deafinitely Girly’s stomach was rumbling so loudly even I could hear it.

I suggested we call the restaurant to ask where it was and on doing so we discovered that they didn’t deliver and our food had been sat there going cold for the last 45 minutes with them wondering where we were. I think in the screaming spider situation some wires had got crossed, although London Aunt swears she gave him her address for delivery.

But Blanco – in true extreme survival skills tradition – saved the day and dashed out to pick it up for us. The sheepish restaurateur halved the bill and promised a delivery service as soon as they could sort out drivers and insurance…

The food? Delicious and well worth the wait

The reason for my tiredness? The mad evening of tango, salsa and hip-shaking that followed.

*snore