Anyway, this morning I was sent a link to this article on the Guardian website about spiders and it's kinda shaken me up a little. As you know, I'm not a huge fan of the spider. I might've mentioned it. I can't be bothered to trawl back through my posts to find it, but maybe one or two of my three valued (and once regular) readers will remember the entry a couple of years ago dealing with my disposal of a spider and, in turn, the vacuum cleaner that was used for the task.
So I read the Guardian article and thought that I'd give it a go. I'd name that little fucker. I then bravely ventured back into the bathroom and took a good look at the spider in order to ascertain his name. I'm a firm believer that if you look at something long enough then an appropriate name will come to you. This is why our inherited cat Sage is perhaps better known now as Muffman. Like the Guardian piece said, the spider was clearly a male, and I started to feel the name coming through. It was strong and I was clearly getting Holmes. Clear as day. As in Sherlock Holmes. Only it wasn't Sherlock that I was feeling, but rather it was something more down to earth and approachable. It was Martin. Yup, it was immediately apparent to me that this spider was called Martin Holmes.
And the article was true. I looked at that little (big) spider sitting there on the wall, partially obscured by the basin, applied the name to him and felt a lot better about the whole thing. I left the bathroom and came back into my room safe in the knowledge that Martin Holmes was nothing to worry about. Besides he'd been there for the best part of four days and barely moved; he was harmless. Once he'd got the name it was obvious that he wasn't a member of some kind of complex arachnid terror cell. He wasn't planning anything. He was just an average Joe getting on with the daily grind. I suppose that on some level I developed some kind of feeling for him.
But sadly this feeling has not lasted. I went out for a little walk, down to the beach and back... half an hour max... and in that time everything has changed. I thought that I'd go check on Martin Holmes when I got back in, see if he'd maybe moved a little or something (and I also needed to use the toilet if I'm honest. I drink a lot of tea after all.) To my horror Martin Holmes had disappeared. He was no longer there. No sign of him whatsoever. I'm absolutely shit scared now... you see, this is what you get if you lower your guard and put your trust in something you shouldn't. And, by God, spiders cannot be trusted. I have no idea where he's gone, and that's the worst part of it; he could be anywhere by now.
Fuck fuck fuck. I should've got the Dyson out when I had the chance.