The wasps here do seem to be more genteel: they're English, after all, and were brought up to eat jam at a picnic with all due decorum. I've noticed that once one or more have been swatted, later ones tend to hover around the corpses of their earlier brethren, presumably on the grounds that whatever they were after was worth dying for.

Cat news: Ptolemy is officially in the last days, as whatever's got him is aggressive. We're giving him his prescribed controlled substance to reduce the pain and discomfort, and he'll take his last trip to the vet's tomorrow. Herself is more broken up about it all than she (or I) expected, perhaps because it's been sudden, then drawn out.