If you don't like insects look away now

When I was ten we went on holiday to France. Mum was driving and our babysitter Shelley had come along. Dad was working and joining us later. As our battered red Austin Montego sped through baking French sun shine along the auto route, all was reasonably calm. Then, apparently out of nowhere, an enormous cockroach crawled out and sat on the dashboard. As is the way with scuttling things both Mum and Shelley jumped. How to get rid of it without encouraging hysteria in the car? Mum gripped the steering wheel while Shelley bashed it with the guidebook. Being a cockroach it was of course able to with stand such attacks. Eventually it was bashed to squirming pieces and, in a last ditch attempt to destroy it, pushed into the air blower with the heating turned on full. For the rest of the holiday shards of roasted cockroach would occasionally fly out of the blowers and hit various passengers.

This was my closest cockroach encounter. Until now. Now I thought I'd become reasonably accustomed to seeing carcasses on the bath mat, crushing tiny scurrying specks under my thumb, and seeing running insectoid shadows dive for cover when I enter a darkened kitchen armed only with a candle. I am meticulous about food being in the fridge, in a box or in the bin by the end of each day and all washing up is done and tidied away.

However, over the past few weeks I've lost my nerve. Everywhere I look is another curled up black or brown body, often with antennae twitching. I sit with a colleague and there's one under the desk, I walk to the living room and there's one under the sofa, I go to bed and listen to scratching progress across the ceiling and hoping that my mosquito net is strong enough to stop an enormous roach falling on me.

On Thursday I was feeling very sick and so stayed off work. After a few hours lying on my bed I decided dehydration wasn't going to help. I got up to make everyone's favourite recipe, Oral Rehydration Solution (8 tsp sugar, 1/2 tsp salt and a litre of water). On reaching for the sugar three medium sized cockroaches scuttled out. I shuddered. Then investigated. There seemed to be a camp of cockroaches in the cupboard. I moved some forgotten cereal, obviously something had remembered it as the bag was writhing.

As is sometimes the way with sickness I decided everything needed bleaching and clearing. I stripped the cupboard, confined Agnes' maize flour to sealed containers, threw away anything we hadn't touched in a while, boiled water and finished my bleach by pouring it everywhere. Even the salt and spices got new sealed containers. Every plate, bowl, pan and piece of cutlery was doused in boiling water and every bottle set in sterilising solution (which is a great buy!) the floor was moped and bin bags replaced. When Agnes returned we moved our kit to the living room and sprayed pesticides all round the kitchen. She'd seen the cockroach camp a few days earlier and had been planning a blitz. We sat outside while the fumes dissipated.

The following morning we relined all the shelves and replaced our equipment. At lunchtime I thought a cup of coffee might be in order. As I opened the cupboard I noticed a small figure clinging to the swinging cupboard door... At least the cockroaches are having fun. I might get a pet lizard.