IT’S been a lovely summer, notwithstanding drought and wildfires but it has been nice for the past few days to feel a hint of autumn in the air.

Whether it’s the nights drawing in or the slight chill on even a bright and sunny morning there are definite signs of a change in the season.

I do love autumn - it’s a real transition season that still has the memory of summer but is still packed with the promise of Christmas with its warm up acts of Halloween and Bonfire Night to get us in the mood.

However…and it’s a big however…it does come with the enormous downside that it’s also spider season when the threat of an eight legged cruiser lurks around every corner.

I’m probably tempting fate by saying this, but although we live in an old house with a traditional and probably overstocked cottage garden, it also a remarkably spider-lite residence with normally just one spider of exceptional size visiting each season.

Admittedly when they come they are giants - the most memorable arrived in the middle of a party and I swear everyone in the room stopped their conversation having been distracted by an unusual sound. A quick glance confirmed it was the stomping of eight miniature Doc Martens on the wooden floor as Incy Wincy made his way from the fireplace to the door. I remain convinced that had someone fearless not helped him on his way he could have easily reached up and pulled down the door handle himself.

While I’m still waiting anxiously for the annual visitation at home, work has been a different issue where last week we were confronted with what I’m still convinced was an infestation of giant arachnids.

We’ve recently been doing some updating at the office and decided to convert a small meeting room into a slightly less formal space with a sofa and some easy chairs instead of desks which seemed like a good idea until I walked into the office last week and found the mother of all spiders right in the middle of the doorway.

“Is that alive?” I asked the IT guru who was anxious to show me how much he’d improved the internet speed.

“Do their legs look like that when they’re alive?” he replied with a look of distain.

“That one is dead as well,” he added, nodding towards a second spider just feet behind me.

With my spider senses on full alert I noticed a cobweb in the corner of the chair I was standing near.

“Yes…that one is dead as well,” said the IT expert nudging the chair with his foot. “But that one isn’t he,” gasped as yet another giant emerged from the cushion.

The next day some of my brave team ventured forth to clear the corpses and any living stragglers while others of us huddled in a corner.

“They’re all cleared now,” said Tim Butters vanishing in the garden with one barely contained in a pint glass. “No need for any spider killing chemicals.”

“One hint of a hairy leg and I’m in there with a spray,” I muttered defiantly to his retreating back.