MARVELOUS GRUBS

Ok hands up; I was responsible for the 1978 Ladybird Genocide. I thought they were buttons, and buttons should be pressed, hard. What inky red fingertips I must have had. Quick smart, Mum started to regularly pushchair me to the Science Museum in London where there many more (non organism) buttons to press. Three hours and an aching index finger later - all was well with the winged, black dotted beings in Tunbridge Wells.

This little one was re-born an hour before this photo was taken.

Hello world.

Twenty thousand green pupas, hanging on the wall..

Feasting on squished bananas and torn apple pieces.

I don't know what I'd do without insects. I don't think I'd like walking outside too much. I certainly wouldn't enjoy hoiking up paving slabs hunting down slug eggs. Bumblebees aren't just yellow and black. Bumblebees are light bulbs and lemon, mustard and custard, sunshine and starlight, charcoal and onyx, bruises and clingfilm. Bees are edam and New York taxis, butter and corn, grapefruits and JCB trucks, sou'westers and omelettes, gold bullion and yolk; they are sunflowers. Bumblebees are top hats and tar, thunder and burnt toast, bin bags and blackbirds, blackboards and pupils. Bumblebees throw imaginary buzzing pizza dough around my knuckles.

Bees make this world go round. Wasps aren't bad either. Butterflies land on my nose.

DEAD WASP ON THE DECKING, EAST LONDON

BUMBLEBEE COLLECTING POLLEN, MUM'S GARDEN, HERTFORDSHIRE

GRASSHOPPER / CICADO, ON BALCONY, KEFALONIA 2008