image I was removing the last crusty flakes of mascara when I saw IT through the mirror – and froze.

A spider the size of a dinner plate attached to the side of my bed. I could feel the ends of my hairs tightening in shock.

Equipped for such an emergency, I silently inched my way towards the spider catcher perched on my en-suite shelf, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on this unwanted leggy guest.

The spider catcher has an eight inch plastic handle with a shovel underneath to trap such dark creatures, then whoosh, I close the trap door, and release it out into the moonlit night from my bedroom window, open wide and ready.

Only, of course, this guy is too big and quick and, in a flash, runs for his life under the bed.

I summon tired husband from downstairs, just back from an office wedding party, who grumbles and asks why I didn’t call him in the first place. He was too far away, I was alone and had to act quickly.

Tired husband (it is 1am) picks up a coathanger and aimlessly flings it under the bed. The confused spider dashes out and then back again, seeking sanctuary in his safe darkness under the bed. Under a kingsize bed which is virtually rooted to the floor.

He is safe.

"That’s it, I’m sleeping in the spare room."

Tired husband was fed-up husband by then.

Where do I sleep tonight? How will I know this unwanted fellow has moved on? Will he be casting webs under my bed? Is it my imagination, are spiders getting BIGGER?