Reasons why Fran always carries a rolled-up newspaper
I watched a wasp die on the bus yesterday morning. I know, as an opener, it's not the same as 'Hey, did you see the latest episode of Game of Thrones? but it's all I have to offer. I'm nervous about wasps. I'm sure, if they could talk, they'd say they were nervous about me too. But all I have in my armoury is a rolled-up newspaper and a bad aim. They have a stinger. And, close up, they're pretty scary. A wasp in a field, I can cope with. A wasp in the garden, just about. But a wasp on the bus is a cross wasp. (Move along, Dr Seuss.) I saw it progressing along a window two seats in front of me. It was crawling my way. I don't mean, crawling in the way I'd crawl, as in 'Oof, oof, my knees, and how will I ever get up from this position?' I mean, crawling towards me. I expected a confrontation. I picked up the copy of the Metro I'd collected when I got on the bus and began rolling. It crawled nearer. But it was slow.