Boss Radio

For two or three weeks now whenever the sun shone brightly enough in the morning (It's not guaranteed over here by any means) I've awoken to the sound of a wasp knocking its brains out on the window just above my bed. Now by virtue of the fact that I'm currently bedding down in a sleeping bag on a mattress on the floor of the attic/storeroom the window slopes with the roof, and when it was installed it let the rain in. We called the man-who-fixes-this-stuff and he fixed it. It was only later that I discovered that now we couldn't open the window. The wasp was unfortunately doomed.

Well, not necessarily. At this time of year, as a result of the sun already being so high in the sky by the time it clears the hill to the East, the sun shines though the window on the other side of the room, and that one I can open.

The trouble is that over the past decade or so, various cats have knocked over various piles of boxes full of stuff and the floor in front of the window is now jammed with stuff. Additionally I have kind of painted myself (OK, 'Storage repositoried myself') into a corner by piling new boxes of stuff in front of the fallen boxes and leaving a small table and a load of hi-fi gear, CDs, and LPs littered across the room. I can get to the window, but it means climbing over the table, avoiding the old computer monitor/TV that's perched on it, and then trying to avoid stepping on anything crushable or breakable on the floor or in weak-looking boxes. Basically I was afraid that if the wasp saw me looming towards it with my balance so precariously... erm- unbalanced, it might whip out its thingie and sting me.

So I took the path of least resistance and left the wasp to its fate, nothing personal, just self preservation.

One morning last week I awoke with the sun billowing through the window and a tickle on my back just below my shoulder. In my sleep-befuddled state I reached over and scratched, and felt something get pushed out of the way. I twisted my head and squinted a little on account of my shoulder being a bit close to focus upon properly at this time of the morning, and as I squinted a little wasp's head popped over my shoulder, looked at me, straight in the eye, shrugged, and walked off back down my back.

I lay there transfixed. If I dared to move a muscle the little barbarian would sting me, I knew it, and I wouldn't even be able to get to the sting to spread stuff on it. Several hours later, well, at least a couple of minutes anyway, I became aware that I could no longer feel the wasp on my back and I ventured delicately out of the sleeping bag, at which point I saw it walking purposefully up a pile of magazines by the side of the bed.

So delighted was I by the sheer benevolence of this wasp that I decided there and then that the next time I saw it banging its head against the window-that-opens I would crawl over all the stuff and let it out just to show that I too can show a benevolent side.

The last I saw of it it was tunnelling into a pair of trousers that are lying ready for my eventual use atop of the pile of magazines by the bed. This morning it occured to me that I hadn't seen the wasp again all week and I looked rather gingerly under the trousers. It was there, apparently it had crawled in there exhausted and died.

You know, right now I feel like a total bastard...