Overnight tiny African mud huts appear in building crevices. They are neat and rounded with a perfect cylindrical entrance. I’m slightly ashamed to say, the first time I found one of these structures I had no idea what it was and prodded it at arm’s length with a skewer until it crumbled, revealing a quite gruesome assortment of spider corpses, each stored in its own individual tomb cell. Continue reading
I’m not terribly keen on stinging beasties. Partly due to a ‘traumatic’ experience as an adolescent where unbeknownst to me a wasp crept up my trouser leg.