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Initial plans to buy the Spider an economy ticket with some extra legroom, perch him behind a newspaper and hope for the best were scuppered within seconds of our arrival at the airport. An ill fated attempt to flirt with a decidedly offish metal detector led to our heartbroken arachnid bursting out onto the tarmac, drinking a petrol tanker dry and passing out on the runway singing I Will Survive.
Wrapping him in brown paper and strolling up to the counter in the post office to inquire about parcels to Thailand also unraveled fairly swiftly as Bristol and the surrounding counties ran out of first class stamps and the sedative we’d stuck in his propane began to wear off.
Foiled again – there was only one thing for it - Bring on the containers.... Bring on the cranes….
