The Wasp Burning Stove

The Owner tells me off frequently for bringing things in from the garden, you know the sort of thing, little treasures for burying under my comfy cushion, manky piece of wood for chewing up later and various other little delights. I am thinking at the moment he is rather wishing he followed his own advice. You may recall how yesterday there was an absence of heating oil in the tank and therefore acorresponding lack of heat in the cottage. There was also a distinct lack of logs for the woodburner in the shed rendering a distinct chill across the cottage which he was clearly not prepared to endure for another evening. I have to say that his resolve was something I heartily approved of when he came home early and spent half an hour rooting around in the woods up by the barbie looking for sufficient fodder for the woodburner for the evening. He came struggling down over the lawn dropping more wood than he was carrying and disappeared back up to the woods for a second load. It was then that he thought he had struck gold when he happened upon a big bag of charcoal left over from a barbie in the summer and came rushing back to the cottage carrying his booty with the look of a small child who had just managed to nick his big brothers favourite toy. There was furious activity in the living room with paper being ripped and wood being broken up as he laid and then lit the fire. It was about then when I noticed an advancing army across the carpet. The bag of charcoal had become the home of preference for a colony of a thousand or two wasps who had hibernated for the winter. The warmth from the woodburner and the movement of being carried from the garden seemed to have upset them somehow and they were marching across the carpet to have it out with the first thing they saw moving....me! They seemed to have altogether far too much attitude for my liking so I went for a patrol and left The Owner to it. By the time I returned, he had most of the situation under control but he has been a little restless ever since. Anything that sounds remotely like a buzzing sound seems to put him particularly on edge. I bet he wished he hadn't brought them in. I bet even more he wishes he had ordered oil and firewood!