It is like one of the circles of Dante's Hell round here.Swathed in mist and cloud for days on end.....
And now?
....My bedroom is full of flies when I go up last thing at night, I swat and flap and sweep... and so does The Old Man....
It makes me wonder if something has deceased in the roof space... But I don't smell anything... And with all these flies... Could a horse have crept up there to die?
I could also feel guilty about my house-keeping. But the other day we visit a friend along the road... Her kitchen is festooned with flypapers...
She says to me...
"All these flies. Where are they coming from?"
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