I could never admit that the tarantula was at large, so my story had to be conclusive and final. Then it came to me - the iguana ate the spider. Brilliant. Providing it never occurred to my landlady that iguanas are vegetarian, I would be in the clear. Remarkably she did believe me and until now no one has discovered the truth. I assumed that with a little patience I would recapture the spider, considering that he was now a good five inches across and very heavily built. Unfortunately, I hadn't closed the door and in spite of my massive search the spider was not found. By now, I could feel the panic rising, realising that if my landlady ever found out she would not only evict me but would never be able to step foot in her own house again. As you can imagine, she was horrified at the prospect of living in the same house as a Mexican red knee, but I convinced her of my need for this spider. I pleaded his rarity - there were perhaps only a few hundred left in the world (not including the 20 or so in the pet shop). I told her London Zoo was starting a breeding programme and I had a male which was even rarer. Naturally, they would be interested in using my spider as a mate for its females. I persuaded her that it would be good company for my iguana. I promised that my baby spider of one inch across would definitely not get any bigger (I omitted to tell her that it was classified as a bird-eating spider with an adult leg span of about six inches). Apart from these things, life in the house was straightforward. We shared the cleaning and washing-up. But one job was mine alone. That was removing spiders from the house. My landlady might not have minded snakes but she was very afraid of spiders. I knew this when I bought my tarantula.