The spider and the bench
Within the confines of the warehouse there were many spiders. They hid among the boxes and probably roamed the empty building at night in search of prey.
A monster of a spider, as large and hairy as any tarantula, though possessing much longer and spindly legs, had been captured by one of the regular lads. He kept it shut up in a box. It was his special pet and he delighted in tormenting us with it.
At tea-break we would all go along to the canteen. There was a great long trestle table. We would sit along the sides on benches and share stories and jokes while we drank our tea.
The discourse was nowhere near as erudite as I was later to find among the council workers. The road-sweepers and bin-men seemed a hot-bed of socialist politics and were well-read into the bargain. In the café with the council workers I was bombarded with illustrated accounts of social history and urged to read C P Snow and Robert Tressell. In the warehouse there was no such content. The humour was of an earthy nature and level of conversation mundane.
My sixteen year old body was merely grateful for a rest. My muscles ached from hefting heavy boxes.
But that place was rarely restful. Most times the lad would bring his box to the table and release his pet spider to scuttle up and down. He delighted in the shrieks it produced from the girls. The lads did not shriek. They merely watched it with bored expressions and drank tea from their mugs.
Despite my terror of spiders I feigned the same indifference. I well knew that if I was to let on that I was uneasy about that monstrous, evil arachnid I would have been the focus of special attention and my life would become unbearable. The last thing I wanted was to have that monster thrown in my face, or worse, put down my neck.
Tea-breaks were an ordeal.
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The pictures of the Spiders has made my toes curl up, how you sat there with that thing being let out of the box is another thing. Not all Working Class are uneducated, in those days one could learn so much as you did.
Too true. There was a wealth of intelligence, political thought, and barbed wit from well-read individuals. The council was a nursery for all kinds of interesting people. The warehouse was unfortunately not at that calibre.
Look what you learned from them, it’s still there with you. I used to spend a lot of time with the Workmen, as they were called on our Engineers & Works Dept at the Pru. I did not realize at the time what I was learning from them, very political, very intelligent.
It all goes into the melting pot. Not sure what comes out.
Someone who understands and cares about people and this World, that’s what comes out.
Well I’m glad about that!
What an interesting spider! If you look closely, which I’m sure you are not wont to do…it almost looks like another being entirely on its back. I guess they evolved that way to scare away predators. That guy in your group with the pet was a predator of fear. What a bully. I’m glad you didn’t let on because surely he would have put it down your neck. I wonder how many of the other guys were scared too, feigning indifference.
Mary
I’m not sure that I want to look too closely. That was a huntsman spider on the wall in Australia. It was about the size of your hand – big. A similar size to the one that was on that bench.
I reckon there were probably a few who felt like me. Arachnophobia is quite common.
Wow, that is big. I remember being freaked by spiders until my early 20’s when I made friends with them. I remember watching Tarzan as a kid and there were several episodes where Jane got caught in giant spider webs and the music and her terror and the giant lion sized spider approaching…
It scared me! I remember those Tarzan films too! They didn’t help!