3 am. An irregular pounding noise startles me into consciousness. Instantly alert, thanks to my heart beating wildly in full flight or fight mode, I slither out of bed and decide on my trainers. Trainers not slippers. There’s a bit of substance about trainers. Right now substance offers security, and security offers a comfort normally associated with slippers. My trainers are quiet though, like my slippers, as I pad round the house switching on all the lights. Light is offering the same comfort as the non-slipper trainers.

The Bathroom door is closed. I’m glad about that. Whatever is making the noise is on the other side of it. Except that it’s stopped now. Is it an ‘it’ or  a ‘they’?

I stand beside the door, straining to hear the enemy within. Nothing. Is it (or are they) straining to hear me? Are we both frozen into inactivity, with only a wooden barrier separating us? Can I summon up the courage to open the door and look?

No. It is 3 am. I need daylight. Artificial light offers small solace compared to daylight. I decide to postpone any investigations. The thing (or things) in the bathroom can continue doing what it is/ they are doing.

I go back to bed. I daren’t take off my trainers- I might have further need. I try to sleep, but sleep evades me. Besides, after ten, twenty, perhaps thirty minutes, the thing in the bathroom starts up again, creating its cacophony who knows how? Sliding silently out of bed again, I creep to the closed door and knock on it. Silence resumes.

I don’t get much sleep. Dawn begins to lighten my bedroom. Should I? No. I need blazing sunlight to investigate: in the absence of sunshine, blazing cloud-covered daylight will do. I drift in and out of sleep. Then suddenly my excuses are overwhelmed by the need to use bathroom facilities. I knock on the door and enter. What will I see?

Nothing.

Nothing except a conker.

Do conkers move by themselves at night? I pick it up and scrutinise it. Now  I know, now I understand.

Fast forward an hour. I’ve replaced the conker, along with a black, plastic contraption.

And now I wait.

It takes about ten minutes. Snap!

I knock on the door- it’s becoming a habit.

There’s something in the bathroom. Something that had played football with a conker in the dark of the night.

There’s something in the bathroom.

A mouse in a trap.

I reset the trap. This is something I repeat until the snapping has ceased. Four mice later, silence. The football playing mice are finished. I remove the spider-repelling conker but leave the trap, just in case.

Two days later. There’s something in the bathroom.

An enormous spider!