You know that thing where you think "Oh, I haven't seen so and so in a while" and then you see them?

Since being out here, I've started little routines that I wouldn't normally do at home. Like tapping and shaking out clothes and shoes before putting them on. Checking under (most) toilet seats before sitting down. Not walking through longish grass without trainers and heavy footfalls. It's not paranoia, and I'm not particularly squeamish or scared of what I might find - it's just common sense. Australia's got it's fair share of big, small and dangerous wildlife; I just hadn't encountered any yet.

Well, a word of advice.

Avoid having such "Hmm, funny, I haven't seen..." thoughts about spiders when you're living on a farm in New South Wales. It's called tempting fate.

I'd just finished cleaning a relatively trouble free feed shed (i.e., nothing that scuttled out was larger than my big toe) down on the yard. Job done, I walked back to my room and switched on the light.

"HOLY F*****CKING MOTHER OF GOD, YOU'RE BIG." I said, staring at the wall where something had not so much caught, but forcibly dragged my eye. I felt the colour drain from my face. "Sh*t the bed. Oh god. Jesus, you are massive."

Not knowing what to do apart from stare, wide eyed and open mouthed - it was beyond squashing size and its thick legs looked more than capable of a lengthy jump - I sat down at the end of my bed. This thing, I reasoned, feeling slightly sick, didn't just creep in while I was out. Nothing that big could fit under the crack beneath the door. It's been in my room the whole time, biding it's time, waiting to reveal itself to the young British girl who dared not to be scared of Aussie spiders.



After a few more minutes of trying and failing to ignore the Wall Monster, I switched the light off and walked into the main house. The Dad was sitting in the living room.
"Bob..." I said, appearing in the doorway, "Are you any good at err, moving spiders? There's a massive one..." I made a box shape with my hands... "in my room"
He looked up.
"Ah, it's just a Huntsman. He eats the flies. He's alright, won't hurt ya. Just sits in the corner." before turning his attention back to the TV.
"Err...right." I said, thinking I'd rather have the flies hanging around than Satan's eight legged incarnate, "And umm, well does it, will it...bite?"
"Nah. Not usually."
"Not usually. Good. Ok."

Next, I tried the Polo Player.

"Polo Player?" I said hopefully, changing tact. "There's a spider the size of a small goat in my room. Bob said it eats flies, but I'm pretty sure we're talking about different things because this one looks like it's recently eaten one of your foals."
"That's a huntsman. Big eh? He'll be alright. More scared of you than you are of him."
"Look, it's not so much that it's going to hurt me, and as long as I can keep my eye on it, I don't mind. It's just...if I switch off the light tonight and manage to sleep, and I wake up and it's gone...or worst still sitting on my bed..."

Realising I was largely being ignored - nay, laughed at - by the male members of the household, I took my case elsewhere: The Mum. "Oh yes, completely harmless but scary looking, aren't they? I used to have to move them from the kids' rooms in case they got frightened. I won't kill it. I'll get it out with a broom."

And so ten minutes later, slightly embarrassed that my fear was on par with an Australian six year old, my room was rid of it's resident fly catcher.

I'm sorry, Australia. I'll never doubt you and your capacity for huge, great big and gargantuan killing beasts again.