Shredded, literally. The moths have not only munched their way through my fave old Pringle mitts, rendering them fingerless, and not in a boho-chic way, but in a disgusting, witchy way. My sweaters look like sieves and my gorgeous, gorgeous Brora cashmere shawl, the most treaty luxurious present I got last Christmas, and actually ever, is almost alive with soft white things. How could this have happened? Well I know, because for the past few months I’ve been swatting moths in my bedroom and shouting at them, as if that’ll help. Apparently it’s all because of climate change. Warmer winters and even warmer springs recently have resulted in record numbers of moth infestations, especially this year.
So this is what I should have done and what I am doing now:
- Going through my drawers and inspecting all clothes for signs of moth infestation. Swearing a lot.
- Putting woollies into the deep freeze for 48 hours to kill off larvae. Chortling to myself, as I do so and whispering, “Take that, moths” in a slightly deranged way.
- Buying bags of contraband naphthalene balls from China on Amazon, although, as the reason they are illegal in the UK is because they are carcinogenic, I am then throwing them away (reluctantly), as I’d rather have moths than cancer. I’m also worrying about whether it is illegal to throw them away, and how I should dispose of them responsibly. Maybe I’ll keep them, just in case.
- Investing in many packs of cedar wood balls and blocks on hangers, together with a little bottle of cedar wood essence. I am then rubbing drops of the pungent oil into the wooden balls and blocks, and distributing liberally throughout my wardrobe. Feeling pleased about my renewed sense of eco-cred. Hoping this works.
- Ditto buying sachets of fresh lavender and popping them between my defrosted sweaters. I don’t know whether this will make any difference. I don’t care, because they smell lovely and spending as much money as I can, buying all natural products, makes me feel virtuous.
- Trying to reverse my current status as a moth-bore. You want to talk about sex, I want to talk about moths. You want to talk about sexism, I want to talk about moths. You want to talk to someone else, because I want to talk about moths. I am in a moth rut. Which is worse; shredded sweaters or shredded social life? Sweaters? That is the RIGHT answer.