Garden beasties give me the creeps and crawlies

What is it with all those insects that lurk under the rocks in our gardens, muses Rab. From slaters to spiders it seems these denizens of dark niches are always waiting to ambush him...

One of my earliest memories is of turning over a large stone in my granny’s back garden and finding hundreds of creepy-crawlies wriggling hither and, if I remember rightly, yon. I ran away screaming, much as I still do today. My memory suggests the monsters were earwigs, though nowadays one would expect to find slaters. What has happened to earwigs? Don’t seem to see them around so much nowadays. Have they been hunted to extinction? I hope so.

Generally speaking, I don’t approve of insects. Once, there was a wee golden, fairy-like effort that used to flit about my computer. I became fond of it, as I do with other solitary creatures, and used to talk to it about current affairs, football and so forth.

It was a big mistake. I should have killed it. Not because we had an argument about whether or not a goal was offside but because, within months, my hoose was swarming with the beasts – carpet moths, as it turned out.

I had to lift and throw out all the carpets, something I’d always wanted to do anyway, as I’m your man for bare wooden floors (not always a great idea, right enough; I live in a 1961 semi, and the floor is flimsy; I stained it dark oak, but it still feels like you’re walking about in a hut).

There are also ants in the garden, and I had to get rid of a wasps’ nest in the eaves a few years ago. Damned nuisance. I accept and encourage bees, of course, since these are cuddly. But, by and large, there are a lot of antisocial squatters crawling aboot the garden and paying no rent.

Birds are supposed to eat them, but it’s not something you see very much. I suspect they prefer pies and sausage rolls. Maybe a wee bridie for the robin.

There’s a row of upturned plant-pots beside the Shoogly Steps. I keep them because they might come in handy – though I know they will never come in handy.

Every time I shift these things when tidying up, I find slaters have moved in en masse, and I’ve lifted the roof of their hoose. It’s the same with a row of halfcoconut shells that, ingeniously, I used for a border beside some white gravel.

It hasn’t worked because beasties come oot at night and turn the shells (from those suet feeders you buy for the wee birdies) over – just for a laugh. So, I decided to throw the shells out and, under every one, was a commune of slaters.

What do they do all day in there? I suppose they just look at each other and occasionally say in a bored, fatalistic voice: “Aye.”

Back at the plant pots, I quite often find slugs and snails and, from time to time a frog. I feel guilty at ruining their living arrangements but it’s a bit like living with a teenager. You have to tell them: “You shouldn’t be staying in all day. You should be out getting some fresh air.”

You may say: “Insects have their place in the world, ken?” And I agree. But I wish it wasn’t always under things. I’m sure they just do it to give folk a fright.

Slaters are among the most common creatures you’ll find in your garden – or on your carpet.