Wasp Factor 9

My room is full of wasps. I get no sleep. I have to wait for them to return from the pubs and clubs and settle down before I can retire to my earplugs and pillows.

They have a total disregard for the fact that I live here too. When I get up and go about my business, cleaning the dust between books, spilling coffee over important bills and notes, oiling my shoes, I have to make an effort to be as quiet as possible, because I don't want to annoy them.

Sometimes during the day, even while they sleep, I plug my ears with cotton wool and chewing gum and sing out-loud, using spoons as drum sticks to tap out washing-up rhythms on pots and pans while I boil the kettle, munch breakfast cereal. Inevitably this wakes up the wasps, but when I can't hear their abuse, the abuse doesn't hurt.

They soon give up and go back to sleep - but they never seem to understand that my actions aren't meant to offend, I'm just going about my business.

What they say about 'sticks and stones' isn't true. Bruises fade, bones and scars heal. You forget what it's like to feel physical pain, otherwise women wouldn't have babies, and no one would get out of bed in the morning. But you never forget being yelled at.

Rollo Kim