Visitors (2)

The wasps are beginning to come into the house. One came in early while we were at breakfast. It was clearly disorientated, bless it, diving about everywhere and eventually flying down behind the radiator. Are they dying? That is the impression my mother always used to give – that come September they would start acting weirdly because of their approaching demise. She didn’t say it like that of course. The spiders are in too. At least one was, in bath yesterday. One of those spindly-legged ones. Why they go into baths when they can’t get out again, who knows? I helped it or him or her out and she, he or it clambered across the floor and then up the wall to take rest under my mirror. I want to learn to love them. I can accept them but they still make me a little uncomfortable. We all have our part to play. Don’t we?

Edgy with the writing work I have to complete today. It’s still very rough and clunky. It is never easy for me. I fret so much about making it right. Let it go smoothly. Help me to be clear, unpretentious and honest. It is enough, that.

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.