The cockroaches are starting to get me down. I gather they’re around the city in large numbers this summer, but that’s no consolation when I seem to find at least one somewhere in or around the house every day.

Possibly the worst moment was stepping on one in the dark last week in my bare feet. A lot of swearing and washing of the offending foot followed.

And another one was found in… the kettle. Honestly. What TF it was doing in there, I don’t know. (I almost didn’t mention this, but I should just add: the kettle has been thoroughly cleaned, and the nature of boiling water is that germs don’t survive. Nevertheless any visitors to my house may, at their request, have their tea boiled in a saucepan.)

It’s got to the point where now I keep thinking I’m seeing them. A dark spot on the edge of my field of vision will have me whirling round to check, only to find it’s a knot in the wooden floor or a chair, or some inanimate object.

Once spotted, cockroaches either perish under the sole of my trusty old Blundstone boot, or get sprayed with a marvellous Baygon spray that sees them dead within seconds (as per the pic), and, if you believe what the can says, provides protection against them where sprayed, for months. (Not sure I believe that, not from such a sweet-smelling concoction. And no matter how sweet-smelling, I feel compelled to clean anything used for eating that comes into contact with it.)

But it’s readily apparent that there must be a nest of them somewhere, as no matter how clean the kitchen is, they keep showing up. It’s time to call in the experts to deal with them.