This morning, though, was an interesting variant. It was about five-thirty when the unmistakeable buzz of a flying insect woke me. I hadn’t even started dreaming. And it was much too early. And it went on after my eyes and ears were definitely open. This was the real thing.
I’m good in a crisis. Like a super-hero, I switched on the light, sprang out of bed and grabbed a towel. The buzzing stopped. But I had a fix on it: somewhere around the front curtains. I did a forensic inspection of all areas then carefully agitated the curtains. The buzzer wasn’t falling for that. I lowered the towel and backed away. It was a blink-first standoff.
It blinked first, a black buzzing dot hovering near the wardrobe. I went into full Zen warrior mode. One swing of the towel, and the sleepy queen wasp was squirming on the floor. I finished it off, binned it and went back to bed.
Probably two hours later the unmistakeable buzz of a flying insect woke me. It stopped as soon as I opened my eyes. I waited; it didn’t come back. It wasn’t there. Oh well, I thought, that’s an addition to the repertoire of wake-up calls. At least they’re all based on, or drawn from, memory, so I don’t expect herds of wildebeest in the attic. Mustn’t get complacent though; I did once hear a Coldplay record …