I lost the battle against the wasp nest: no matter how many workers I vacuumed, it still hung on. And now our house is full of groggy young queen wasps. It seems that the last thing a wasp nest does before shutting down for good is discharge a bunch of queens who will hibernate and then start new nests come spring. But these queens are racing into a trap.
The nest has two main exits. One out into the chilly open air. The other into the comfy warmth of the Rundkvist household. And we haven’t been able to locate and stop up the latter opening. So when one of these young ladies is set to leave the nest — which exit do you think she prefers? The parallel that comes to me unbidden is that of a condom: the wasp nest is ejaculating its little emissaries, and my house is one big latex contraceptive.
Though unusually large, they’re quite pitiful creatures, unaggressive, already sleepy, looking for a decent hiding place to crash out in. I grab them from the south-facing windows with a piece of kitchen roll and end their suffering with little crispy noises.