A cure for arachnophobia?

Aragog on our wall.
Aragog on our wall.

“Do people think we’re a bit daft?” Noel shouted from the open upstairs window as he held on to Aragog’s bottom. “Naw,” I replied, trying to sound as if I meant it, while battling with six of the eight giant legs. “They expect it of us…”

This not having much work malarkey has sent the boredom threshold into overdrive, kicked off a creativity streak and nudged the eccentricity meter. Thankfully I’ve chanelled it into something useful, like making a giant spider for the Calverley Scareycrow Festival, which is scarecrows with a Halloween theme.

It’ll look good on the CV, though. Visioning, seeing scaryness, imagining what it would look like and how it could manifest itself. Strategic and budgetary planning, sourcing the cheap giant baubles which would become the head and body of Hagrig’s arachnid mate Aragog, working out how to put the damned thing together and launch it out of the window. Staff management and delegation, though Noel and the cat may balk at that description and finally execution to demonstrate that I can finish what I start, so there.

Neither of us are keen on spiders, so I saw this as a way of looking fear in the giant eyes and not jumping on the sofa and shouting aghhhhhh, AGHHHHHHH! Noel said he wasn’t too sure and the cat just sat on the material that would make the spider’s exoskeleton. The biggest freak out came as I assembled it in on the lounge floor, complete with articulated legs. Noel announced that he was contemplating a few nights in a spider-free hotel, I considered joining him, though had to point out that nowhere is spider-free. I think that freaked him out even more. Still it meant I could add crisis handing to the CV.

Now our only fear is that passing cars will swerve and crash into the wall as they see Aragog. Looks like my first aid certificate may come in handy too,  I was worried too that children may run away screaming and have nightmares for he rest of their lives. Thankfully, Oscar, our young neighbour, pronounced it ‘cool’, though hinted he’s like more than the usual cheap sweets when he tricks or treats us on Thursday.

It must have been this new CV that secured me some work, which is good news for Noel’s nerves and sanity.  He can now pack me off with my jam sandwiches and bottle of pop each day safe in the knowledge that I will be far too busy to do anything as daft as this again…for a while at least.

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