For the last few years I’ve been labouring to transform my terror of spiders into guarded appreciation, even wonder. I’ve been drawing pictures of spiders, and writing stories about them. When I spy a spyder (spider) in the wild, I make a strenuous display of hunkering down to utter words like “ooh, what a beautiful False Widow, such poetry of form”. Then the spider moves a fraction, and I hoot and holler on out of there, pawing imaginary silk strands…