Cricketer

A year or so ago we had a cricket plague here in SA. The climate conditions were such that it was perfect breeding for millions of the little black monsters. Apparently Johannesburg International Airport was overrun with them, crawling up the walls, into luggage etc. Locally the roads ran black - there were squashed crickets everywhere.

Post-plague, and we only see them occasionally now. We hear a few now and then, but are no longer surprised by things popping out of the cupboards or creeping into our clothing.

Until this morning...

What is it with crickets and open shoes? There's one in the office and he insists that my toes and sandals look like the ideal home. There's nothing like the insistent prodding of cricket antennae to make one decide the best course of action is to keep feet on bin for a few hours.

And now he's disappeared. Which is even worse. I keep feeling things tickling my toes - but there's nothing there. All in the head.

So here I sit, feet in the air, hoping the darn thing moves out, and quickly.