I’m going to start with the pleasures, before I get on to the topic of the perils. I enjoy living alone. I’ve earned it. After years of boarding school, followed by life in a girls’ hostel, then marriage and family, having my own solo space is a privilege and a joy. Plus, I’m a cranky old lady with an equally cranky old cat, so not an ideal housemate. Chocolat and I have worked out a harmonious sharing agreement. She dictates, and I salute. Works well.
One of the solo pleasures is having control of the TV remote. I never have to watch sports programmes which bore me witless and neither do I have to endure horror movies, or ultra violent crime series. And, perhaps best of all: I don’t have to endure the male habit of surfing restlessly from channel to channel, flicking endlessly from programme to programme, just when I’d started to watch and enjoy something.
Another major pleasure is being able to eat meals ad lib, ad hoc and add plenty of fruit and yoghurt, please. For one glorious week, after my younger daughter’s wedding, I ate trifle for breakfast. I left others squabbling over the left-overs from the braai*, and quietly removed the remnants of the luxury trifle. The most sinfully delicious breakfast week ever.
Now I have to relate one of the perils of solo living, having cheered myself with happy reminiscences. Bolstered my courage, as it were.
Spiders. Big, enormous spiders. Lurking ominously on the bathroom ceiling. At nine thirty at night. I don’t do well with spiders. Little ones I bravely swoosh into an empty jar and hurl them outside into the garden. But a spider the size of a teacup saucer? Uh-uh. Not going to happen.
My knowledgeable friend tells me it must have been a rain spider. Thanks for the helpful info. That night, I neither knew nor cared. The crunch was: the spider and I could not remain under the same roof. Especially as I was preparing for bed. Can you imagine? An inquisitive spider exploring my entire house, including my bedroom ? Aaarrrggghhh.
Summoning every speck of courage, I armed myself with a broom and despatched the insect. Awful. And then I had to sleep with my bedside light switched on all night, just in case … irrational, I know. Ridiculous – I know.
I told you, I don’t like spiders. To the extent I’m not going to Google a pic to head up this post. I just can’t. Consider this a public exposure of my Achilles heel.
*braai – barbecue