Wasps keep visiting my window

little bastards must be building a nest near by. I remember when I first moved into this place at the end of the last summer I found scores of brittle wasps corpses picking up fluff in the small communal toilet next to my modest little room. There's an old apple tree in the garden that's seen better times, as, indeed, has the garden, now the home to countless pots and rusting pans, old bike frames minus the resalable accessories and various other pieces of junk discarded by previous inhabitants. What I mean to say is that this apple tree, which for the most part goes untended, unloved and generally forgotten, fills the long grass around the base of its trunk with any number of slowly rotting fruit, which, I'm sure, attracts every wasp for a 3 block radius. I wouldn't mind so much save I have the things and their needless seasonal aggression. One got into my room earlier and I damn near broke my leg as I tried to flee while dressing. I think it was queen, although to a phobic even the most emaciated bug would assume monolitic proportions. Suffice to say I've been unable to open the window since and have been swealtering in the forced heat of an unexpected minor (British) heatwave. To try and keep my mind occupied I read some Neruda and wrote out some notes I've been taking in a more legible hand. When it got dark I went for a walk out past where the street lights give way to the countryside and enjoyed a half hour listening to the birds down by the river.

Bad fruit and wasps. I'm convinced there's a wasp in here with me now, tired and angry just waiting to me to drop an unprotected foot onto its pulsing body. That would be my room 101, I really can't stand them. It takes a monumental amount of effort for me to re-enter a room after a wasp episode, and it would seem I'm getting worse. The only way I could deal with the one today was to prop the door open and wait for it leave before rushing into the room while waves of mild panic thumped through my body.

While I'm on the subject of nasty bugs, I saw a video clip of a camel spider the other night and it gave me nightmares of a severity I haven't experienced since I was a kid. Appartently these things live in the deserts of Iraq and as such crave shelter and the cooling reflief of anything that casts a shadow, including people, and have been known to chase after people, and presumably, camels, in an attempt to shade their bodies from the searing heat of the sun. what's more, these guys grow to quite a size and even 'scream' as they chase you. I sincerely hope I never see one of these things.

Also watced Factotum this evening, which isn't bad. Not sure whether this was a novel that needed to be made into a film, personally I thought there wasn't enough for a film, but as a short novel it worked well. Gotta love some of Bukowski's one liners though, the man certainly had that bar room philosophy down to a fine art. Anyone who's ever worked a crappy service job for terrible wages, which is probably almost everyone, will appreciate the mindset I'm sure. As for me, I've worked crappy part-time jobs for so long I get nervous when I think about careers, but part of me feels that everyone should have to work a service industry job at least once in their life, like completing your national service or something in a similar vein, as a means of preparing you for later crises of a self-conscious nature.

I'm off to bed. Good night.