Good Night, Sleep Tight…

(This one’s for Julie and Paul)

Consider the humble bedbug (Cimex Lectularius Linnaeus to his only friends: entymologists and other bedbugs). He’s an opportunistic feeder. If no warm body lies down at his buffet he gets by; he can go a long time between meals. But when nature provides he’s not slow to the table. “This character was alive when I found him on my pillow,” I told Jill, handing her one of my lovely Woolworth’s cereal bowls, unfortunately not empty. I had only moved in to Room 3 the day before, and dressed up the bed with a new duvet cover. “I accidentally killed him by putting the bowl on top of a cup of hot tea.” I knew instantly that this was not the first example of Cimex Lectularius Jill had seen. Turns out there’d been a general extermination performed no more that a couple of months previous, but apparently it didn’t eliminate the second generation; one tenant told me the only thing that might work permanently is sealing the little bastards up in the walls, and in a building this size and age good luck finding every possible crack.

Meanwhile, owing to the upcoming bank holiday, I won’t see my new mattress until Tuesday. That’s the bad news; the good news is that Gerry will be in Ireland another two weeks, and I can go back to his room.

And I have.

My other move was from Victory Holidays to Aby Convenience Store – a block away in the opposite direction – in the basement of which are 16 shiny new PCs with USB ports for the same hourly rate. No more hooking my laptop up to their too-short Ethernet cable and holding it on the tips of my knees. My back thanks me, though I will miss the music and bustle of Little Zimbabwe.