5 November 2013
The freezer is full of woollens! There’s no room for the macaroni cheeses and lasagnes against the days I put down tools and refuse to cook. Even the bread and butter has been turfed out, and the spare milk.
BH’s jerseys are riddled with moth. Well, not so riddled as to be not worth darning. Girl Guides taught us to be fair darners but arthritic fingers are my excuse for giving it up, so I presented the woollies to Darn It and Stitch It.
“Please put the garments in the freezer for four days. There may be eggs.”
It’s a horrid thought: moth eggs, too small to see without a magnifier, quite apart from taking up an entire drawer for nearly a week. And, I have no idea how much it’s going to cost – one doesn’t like to ask somehow.
(We were caught in a restaurant in Paris once, so smart it had no price list or indeed menu. We only had a fiver, so we ordered two bowls of soup and prayed like mad it would cover the cost — hardly conducive to bon appetit. Sighs of relief when there was even enough change for a tip.)
Last year the Moth Man came and we were banished from the flat for several hours while he snuffed and puffed about doing his stuff. There are sticky traps, like triangular tunnels in every clothes cupboard, and logs of cedar wood in the drawers and on the shelves in the linen cupboard.
I can only imagine the little varmints are immune to my wiles. Perhaps we can just live with them and wear 100% acrylic? Or should we introduce spiders?
Does anybody know any reliable Old Wives’ wheezes?