Help. I’m Losing The Plot

Or have I already lost it?  Friend Who Knows Too Much pointed out to me today that not only does she not mind moths but that she and Artistic-Daughter raised a moth from a caterpillar once and were delighted with the resultant moth even though it turned out to be a little on the drab side.  Why, when I wrote that in the post about the Northern Wattle Moth, did I confuse moths with spiders?  I am getting worried.  I should know the difference: moths don’t have 8 legs and spiders don’t have wings.  Leastways I think I’ve got that the correct way round. 

Mum didn’t like moths.  I know that.  She really didn’t like moths.  Well not when they were flying around.  I think CJ showed her the beauty of moths – as he did me.   But then even if I did get it wrong about Mum she may look down and shake her head in bemusement but she won’t be sending me an email!  Unfortunately.

Actually, and here I digress as is my wont,  Mum (whom I, of course, would have said was a prime candidate for heaven) always said that she didn’t want to go to there.  Too cold.  She felt that Down Under would be much better from that point of view.  Mum could stand most things but not the cold.  How Mum and Dad managed to live in the same house all those years is beyond my understanding.  Mum liked the living room at the temperature at which butter would turn liquid instantly.  Dad liked it at, well, the temperature most of us humans can cope with.