Derek and his son came home with eyes that disappeared when they blinked and even their teeth were coated in a fine brown paste, that cemented the flies right in there, some of them still flapping their wings and kicking their hind legs in protest. It was not sexy. They both had to be power hosed.
Derek went to town and bought some spray and took care of the nest. End of the road for the Gympie wasps and their holiday to see the dinosaurs. I would like to cry for them but I don’t do insects. I would like to tell you I am a better person but I am not. They died and I ate my supper.
I LOVE not having any power and being stuck in the middle of nowhere. It is just like camping, with a tent, only instead of a tent and few things, you haul around this room with all these electric gadgets you get to look at, at night, in the dark, eating raw lamb chops because you have nothing to cook them on.
And of course I did not scream out. We were in a public place and I am a Canadian. I did not want to get Derek into any kind of trouble for running over and killing his wife, and I certainly did not want to disturb any of the other campers.
We couldn’t pass them. Well, we could have, and then they would have had to paint another sign showing an overtaking caravan smashing into an oncoming caravan with cows and kangaroos flying everywhere. I am not sure they had a good enough artist for that and asking people to stop and see a slide show before they continued down the mountain was not really practical … I mean without a popcorn stand or something.