The death of a fly

Ann has an aversion to flies: they're dirty, unpleasant creatures that love to visit the filth before coming in to feast off our food. We bought one of those modern fly killers, an ultraviolet lamp array set behind a grid of high voltage wires, so if one of the devils goes to the light, it should be zapped and fried, but so far not a single fly has fallen for the temptation of basking in the sun. Since becoming vegetarian we have seen far fewer, as they no longer breed on the decaying meat in the bin, but still a few get in from somewhere.  So today on the hottest day of the year, the doors and windows remain firmly closed, Unfortunately, one still got into the kitchen as I was eating lunch. Suddenly, I leapt back in mid-mouthful. Ann had leaned across the table and whacked me hard on the arm with a thick bundle of paper, saying "got it!"  "Yes," I said, "it's lying on the table. It nearly went in my soup!" Ann of course just laughed, thinking it very funny to make me jump while managing to kill a fly at the first blow.

Ann was invited to visit M-A today for a "girlie" afternoon to watch Mama Mia. M-A had four fans blowing to try and keep them cool, but she is does not like entertaining. The food provided was some popcorn, and one of the drinks Ann had taken round for the girls. However, she has been a godsend during the lockdown, bringing shopping and prescriptions and running other errands, so like most people, there are many pluses. 

As with humans, pigeons mate throughout the year and we currently have a breeding pair just outside our kitchen in the forsythia bush. They used to nest in the trees lining our garden, but since their recent desecration (see weird-omens) the birds are nesting where they can, so this one is at eye level just two feet from where we can stand looking at it. We watched as the eggs were incubated and hatched, and now as the chicks grow, for the mother leaves them regularly to feed from seed dropped on the grass by sparrows, clumsily trying to mimic the coal tits on the bird feeders. So today the chicks were looking back at us in record-breaking heat, quite large now and overhanging the nest, wondering if we had food for them.