The Paper Wasp

One morning a good ten years ago, I heard the Council rubbish truck trundling up the hill and even though mornings are just not my thing, I realized my bin wasn't standing to attention out the front like all the other smart town house bins!

Horrors! So even though I was half asleep, I grabbed a gypsy-style skirt, pulled on a top and raced out the back.

In one swift baton-passing movement, I grabbed the handle of the bin, lowered it to allow for rolling speed and raced headlong through the garage, down the driveway just as the truck pulled up next-door.

Two burly garbage men jumped off the truck and watched with amusement as a familiar sight - the bin race began.

And they kept on watching even as the scene turned surreal as this strange and flustered woman started jumping over invisible hurdles, fluffing her skirts provocatively right in front of them. One look at my face and they knew I wasn’t acting out of pleasure or invitation, but was in pain! I was being stung repeatedly!

Ouch - ouch - ouch with every stride toward the verge where my bin should be, something painfully injected itself into me again and again.

With the first sting, I thought it was a bee but they only hit once... then I thought it must have been a spider, possibly a red back. I expected to faint at any minute – dying on my driveway was not the way I wanted to go!

Finally I let go of the handle, surrendered the bin to their care and jumped around ooo-ing and ahh-ing in a focussed maniacal dance of release.

Perhaps the bin men thought it was some new form of morning exercise? No - I was trying to release whatever it was that was stinging me on my legs and bum.

I don't think they were 'morning people' either because it eventually dawned on them that I needed help.

Were my neighbours watching? I didn’t care, as two burly (smelly and sweaty) garbage men both pulled up my skirt, flapped their hands around my thighs and ducked their heads under for a better look.

Meanwhile I jumped around on the spot in what may have appeared to be ecstasy - gasping, yelling and moaning.

Though it only took seconds, it felt like forever until a mess of bright orange, an inch-long body, yellow wings and long legs lost the fight and flight and crunched onto the ground.

In tears but smiling with relief, I think the two blokes were even more relieved than I they hadn't got stung by what they called a Paper Wasp!

It was only much later, as I lathered soothing creams onto the various areas of red when I thought about the strangers getting more intimate with me than anyone had for many years.

And I thanked who ever my guardian angel was, that in my frantic rush to get dressed, I had grabbed a pair of knickers!

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2006