Wasps

🫧 Open on Bubbles It’ll be wasp season soon —he says, well aware that the very idea of “seasons” is an increasingly futile one— and so any slight buzzing has me frantically scanning for something, anything, I can use as a weapon. I don’t think I’ve ever told the story of when I was stung. It was, I think, my Mum’s birthday. I can recall helping my Dad organise a surprise holiday for her around…