There's something in the woodshed
and I can hear it breathing
it's such an eerie feeling, darling
He said There's nothing in the woodshed
It's your imagination
end of the conversation, darling
Lyrics by Divine Comedy 'Something for the weekend"
Phobias are strange irrational things. For several days now Ness has been repotting plants, and regularly she screams hysterically. This is my cue to don the gardening gloves and capture and release the frog that she has encountered while she hops from foot to foot gibbering.
Today she was relocating the wood pile and came across a large red-bellied black snake coiled around a log. Not a scream, no hysterics, just a matter of fact 'could you pass me a spade, there is a snake- do I just chop its head off?'.