Unwelcome Guests

"Don't leave me this way!" I beckoned as Mr A fled the crisis last Sunday.

Unlike The Communards' hit from the 1980s it wasn't because my heart was full of love and desire. That had been quickly dampened by the events of the morning. And there was certainly no fire in my soul burning out of control. It was more like stomach churning nausea that was quickly spreading from my guts to my head and taking over each and every limb.

As my almost average knight in shining armour drove off into the mid morning sun, I lamented. Not because I was feeling physically ill, nor because I was left with a room to declutter or a birthday party to organise, or because I had been left on my own to do it all.

I was in distress because I was MOST DEFINITELY NOT on my own.

As well as two lively little boys who were intent on tearing around the house, I also had an army of maggots to keep me company, intent on holding their very own house party in my compost bin.

Yes, I know.

I thought if I just mentioned them in passing, then I wouldn't squirm as much as when I first discovered the horrible disgusting, small in reality but huge in my mind, ghastly, white, wriggly creatures dancing around in the compost.

But having written that sentence, I've just caught myself with fists clenched and holding myself still in a position of defence, waiting for them to creep out from the corners of the sofa and crawl over my flesh! Now I hope you didn't think I was talking about my boys. Shame on you.

But that's what maggots mean to me. In my imagination they are bad. In reality they are far worse.

So how could Mr A leave me with a casual "just pour some boiling water over them, that'll sort 'em" departing sentence?

As if a kiss goodbye would make me feel any better. He was off for a three day residential in Buckinghamshire while maggots were enjoying their own residential in our compost!

I might have had other company, but I was on my own with this one.

So I boiled the kettle and quickly changed my sandals for my wellies ready for Operation Hot Water. There was no way I wanted any maggot to fall on my toes. Shudder at the thought!

I worried about what the boiling water would do to any innocent worm that got in the way, but I was a desperate woman on a desperate mission, more concerned about what I would do if I lost my grip on my shiny Alessi kettle and had to delve deep to retrieve it!

There'd be no cups of tea until Tuesday!

Having given them a blast of the hot stuff, I quickly sprinkled over some anti-acid pellets that I use in the wormery for discouraging flies. Thankful that the kettle hadn't fallen in, I spread sheets of newspaper on the top and put the lid on it. I filled the kettle up again, put the lid on that and made a cup of tea, pondering how the heck those hideous creatures got there in the first place.

I've had a compost bin for ten years and have never had a problem. I've also been using the Bokashi since February and that hasn't caused me any worries either, even in hot weather.

But last month, I put some gone-off cat food in the Bokashi, the remains of the Whiskas that my fussy cat wouldn't eat. Now I wonder whether a little house-fly might have come along and while my back was turned, laid some eggs in the remains before I threw it in the Bokashi bin.

The other possibility is that Little T, my waste saboteur could have bunged a piece of ham sandwich into the compost bin when I wasn't looking.

Whatever! There was NO WAY I was going to take another peek into that compost bin while I was home alone.

I'm leaving that job to Mr A, who after his three day residential, several late nights and a busy weekend, will be home early today and will be on hand to perform a recovery operation. Should he lift the lid to find damn maggots, let him "boil the kettle and sort 'em". My searches around the Internet reveal that it isn't a major problem as far as composting goes (except for the squeamish of course) but if he should need any further help, he could take some advice from here, here, here or here.

Meanwhile, it's my turn to go off and do something more glamorous today. It's time to get dolled up, don my Inspector Gadget rain mac for Project Secret Agent and get ready to check out more bins in London.

While I am there, I ought to go and chew the fat with Gordon Brown. I've heard he's worried about food waste and it's not a minute too soon, what with the credit crunch, energy issues and what not. He might be talking about spending and wasting money on stuff that's in short supply, but I'll take my Bokashi bin along should he be interested, just in case of the odd emergency. So, put the kettle on Gordon, I'm on my way. And don't worry, I'll be wearing my dark glasses should anyone is following....I can always dream...shame he's in Japan.

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