This morning, I killed off the ants in the conservatory. With my flip-flops, I waited until I could see one and then dragged my foot over it. I didn't bother to check if they were alive or not. In my head, I knew that their little ant corpses were smeared across the slabbed floor, high and dry like unwanted bread crumbs.

I watched them emerge, one by one from our food waste bin and picked them off methodically until the conservatory floor was littered with dead ant bodies. Not that they were even visible. The only sign that it had happened was the lack of movement. From my height, the crushed ants looked exactly the same as the small pebbling pattern on the floor surrounding it.

Everything went on unnoticed.

By 9am, I could hear the cars and childrens voices from across the garden. Outside our conservatory is the garden. The shed stands at the very end and beyond the shed is a school playground.