Once again, it was a case of act first, think later… (you are getting used to hearing this aren’t you)

If there were medals to be won for that trait, I could compete for Australia. It’s been a failing all my life and has, many times, got me into hot water.

A nest of wasps appeared, the little European devils imported along with sparrows, rabbits, foxes and prickly pear from other places to be total pests to us Aussies, and they took up residence in a conifer bush several yards from the back door.

They annoyed the dogs, hung round the rubbish bin and made general nuisances of themselves.

Dr Google was my best friend and I researched the easiest way to move them on.

I found that covering the entire conifer with dust to kill them would work, and it said to wait until after dark when – hopefully – the varmints would be asleep.

I discussed this with my better half who was away at the time and he said that he would attend to it when he came home that night and to go and buy the powder, which I did…

But, as usual, I looked at the conifer, looked at the tin of powder, and thought – “how hard can it be”?

You can, of course see where this is heading…

I donned a pair of our son’s fireman’s overalls, put on thick socks, gumboots, put a scarf round my neck, donned gloves, and as a piece de resistance, found my son’s full face rally car helmet and put that on.

I felt safe and secure and ready for battle!

No stinging little sucker was going to get through THAT lot… no need to wait for dark I would attack now… I was dressed for WAR!

So, out I went, Lord knows what any visitor who arrived might have thought when they saw my outfit and, with the can in hand, I approached the conifer and began flailing the exterior with the powder.

I found I was handicapped by three things.

One, that the wasps were not at all happy and came out en masse to see who dared to invade them, two, that I had forgotten it was a hot day, and three, because of the heat, and my heavy breathing inside the helmet, which was totally air proof due to the fact I had wrapped the scarf around my neck to prevent the entry of any wasp into the helmet – it fogged up and I couldn’t see at all, or breathe very well.

I panicked – I admit it, visualising myself having to remove the helmet to breathe and being attacked by several thousand (well it seemed that many) wasps, and having the family finding my sting-riddled corpse when they came home.

I fled back indoors, and collapsed in a panting, sweating heap on the cool floor.

I quietly hid all evidence of my escapade, putting back the overalls, the helmet, the gum boots, gloves and scarf, and that night, when my husband came home, he followed the instructions on the canister, waited until late, went out and doused the bush in powder, and peace reigned again.

One day I will learn…