Nice way to end the weekend this. We've had a bit of a problem with flies in our house over the last 5 days, namely big old bluebottles. Now I know I live out in the middle of nowhere (which is partly why I write and make music to keep me sane) and the folk are a bit "local" in certain places, but our house is always clean and tidy, definitely not a lodging you'd associate with the Deliverance-like ideals that townfolk associate the Dengie with. I for one feel more at home in the city and have never felt the need to operate farm machinery, take up banjo lessons or indulge in other hobbies usually associated with Cletus from Alabama. So imagine our displeasure when dozens of flies infest our home sweet home. I'm beginning to get a bit tired of hunting around on all fours with fly spray in one hand a'la Rambo and exterminating the buggers, so me and me old man (that'd be my dad) decided to have a look to see where they were coming from.

An inspection of the gutters brought out nothing but mud and rather strangely, a purple toy dinosaur. At least a real one would explain where the flies were coming from. Irritated and cold, we decided to check the loft. Amongst the Christmas decorations (no we haven't put them up yet), toys and the water heater, we found a big bird. No not of the Sesame Street kind or the Dawn French variety, but a blackbird. We do as it goes have many an unwanton vist from one of the bird family, usually flying through an open window into our bathroom. Bill Oddie would be in his element, in fact I was half expecting to see him sitting on a box with binoculars in hand in our loft.

Despite this big bird discovery, the flies still buzz around our house. Candles have been lit, fly swats have been sought out and I have invested in a pump action fly spray to slaughter the filth....maybe. Speaking of Big Bird being in our loft, must dash as Oscar the Grouch has knocked over our dustbin yet again...