A post sending good wishes for New Year 2016
Towards the end of December, my body clock addled after a week of late nights and lazy morning lie-ins, I wake up at 4.30am and unable to get back to sleep.
Fumbling for my glasses, I wander downstairs to make a cup of tea, halting just in time to stop myself from standing, barefoot, on a nocturnal slug that has crawled across our red-tiled kitchen floor.
It is now waiting to pounce on me from behind the fireside chair.
Limaxaphobia (Fear of Slugs)
I cannot abide slugs. They are my third most feared creature, after the snake and the crocodile.
Fortunately, these two animals are seldom seen in Hawkesbury Upton, aside from the green inflatable crocodile that currently resides in our bath, and which reduced a small girl to tears when serving as an accessory to my husband’s Indiana Jones costume in this year’s village show.
I have also just acquired a small potstand in the shape of a rubber snake, which I’m using to help cure my aversion. Just as the longest journey starts with a single step, I reckon I might conquer my ophidiophobia if I tackle it one snake at a time. (Actually, having just discovered fear of snakes is called ophidiophobia, I don’t feel so bad about it.)
Though I feel sick just looking at this unwelcome guest, I am confident that the slug will be gone by morning, so it’s with horror that I realise it’s still there at midday, as I lean against the kitchen sink fielding a call from my friend Susanne, who is phoning from her townhouse in London. I bet she doesn’t have slugs on her kitchen floor.
An hour later, I decide that as no-one else in the house has taken the hint to remove it, I must steel myself to the task. I fetch the dustpan and brush, and I bend down to scoop it up, trying to quell my rising nausea. When I push the armchair out of the way to line up a safer approach, more light falls onto the floor from the big kitchen window, and I do a double take. It looks a bit fluffy for a slug. Surely they don’t grow winter coats, especially when we’ve had such a warm December?
A Mystery Solved
Then my vision clears. It’s not a slug at all, but a lump of fluff, curled in the shape of a Quaver*, i.e. remarkably like a slug in the midst of a three-point turn.
Suddenly the world seems a more benevolent place. It’s a good start to my day, even if it is gone noon and I’ve still not had breakfast. Then it occurs to me what my New Year’s wish should be to my friends and family:
In 2016, may all the slugs on your kitchen floor turn out to be harmless little bits of fluff.
Happy New Year!
*Note for my non-British friends: Quaver = potato-based, cheese-flavoured crispy snack
6 thoughts on “Happy New Year – and May All Your Slugs Be Fluffy Ones”
You wouldn’t like my house – it’s a slug magnet. I could tell you a few horror stories, but I don’t want to aggravate your Limaxaphobia.
Thanks to my two dogs, there is also fluff aplenty!
Oh, you reacted as I would, Debbie – actually quite relieved it was fluff!! Jx
Just got me wondering how a slug would describe itself when feeling below par, not quite up to snuff(!) or generally feeling slower than usual… There could be a little comp there – if you purposely forget where you left your Roget!
Happy New Year down there in relatively dry Middle England.
Dare I suggest sluggish? There, someone had to say it! Happy New Year to you too, Shaun!
Hee hee, love this post, because a) we have a red kitchen floor, too, and b) your New Year’s wish is similar in vibe to the one I posted on my FB page (“May 2016 deliver to you as much contentment as a twin-comforter overlap brings to Sushi cat.”), and c) I hate slugs, too, and have stepped on them barefoot and it’s not very nice.
Just checked out your FB author page to admire your very comfy cat, Laura – those bed covers are not called comforters for nothing! Happy New Year!