And if you think this blog is going to be about anything slightly smutty.......you are going to be very sadly disappointed
.
Sunday was a lovely day, sunny and bright.
After I had made the bed, I opened the bedroom window to let some of the sunny fresh air in......and the window remained open for the whole of the day.
When it started to go dark I went upstairs and shut the window again.
I didn't realise that a bluebottle had strayed inside looking for political asylum.
This realisation only dawned when I had gone to bed.....something after ten....when the bloomin' thing started buzzing around and battering itself against the light fitting and the coving. (it is surprising how noisy this sounded).
I put the light out thinking that it would realise that darkness meant it was time to sleep...thought it would be like a moth......settle down and roost somewhere, while I planned to zap it with a fine blast of fly killer, but in the morning.
Himself came to bed and was just settling down to sleep(I knew because his breathing became...erm, sonorous).......the fly started to do low flying missions....zzzzzzzzzzing all over the place.
Himself sat up and murmured some expletives that rhyme with 'ducking fly'....rather than flying duck!
I gave a huge sigh and waited for him to get out of bed to deal with the immigrant.......which he duly did.
He put on the light, and homed in on his prey with a pair of underpants as his weapon of choice....they were clean ones, just pulled from the drawer by the side of the bed.
Ahah, the wily bluebottle must have met his type before and avoided the hit with a neat swerving technique.
'Missed the barsteward' he hissed.......by this time the fly was hovering around the light fitting.
Himself climbed up on the bed, to give a better reach.......but a mattress is not a stable surface and there was a lot of leaning and trying to balance......the end result was a leap to the floor, before falling over.
Still the fly taunted him.......onto the bed again(nothing learned)....much vigorous arm waving and overbalancing......almost killing me.
At this point, fearing for my safety I got out of bed and went downstairs and took the canister of fly spray from under the sink.......back upstairs, there was a howl of delight......himself had knocked down the bluebottle.......ah, now we could get some peace and a bit of sleep.
Within 10 minutes the fly was recovered and was doing the same low passes over the bed.
Himself was not impressed.......he put the light on and gave the room a mighty blast from the fly spray.
I swear that I could hear the fly coughing and spluttering......and then that frantic buzzing that they do just before they die.
This fly must have been a Woodbine smoker, because in a few short minutes it was back in the air again.
By now my spouse was truly exasperated....the underpants were out again,and the prey was tracked down and given a 'right hammering'.....this time there was no reprieve.....it was well and truly dead......at last we could get to sleep.
(the whole episode was funnier in reality than the write up sounds) It made me laugh anyway!
.Sunday was a lovely day, sunny and bright.
After I had made the bed, I opened the bedroom window to let some of the sunny fresh air in......and the window remained open for the whole of the day.
When it started to go dark I went upstairs and shut the window again.
I didn't realise that a bluebottle had strayed inside looking for political asylum.
This realisation only dawned when I had gone to bed.....something after ten....when the bloomin' thing started buzzing around and battering itself against the light fitting and the coving. (it is surprising how noisy this sounded).
I put the light out thinking that it would realise that darkness meant it was time to sleep...thought it would be like a moth......settle down and roost somewhere, while I planned to zap it with a fine blast of fly killer, but in the morning.
Himself came to bed and was just settling down to sleep(I knew because his breathing became...erm, sonorous).......the fly started to do low flying missions....zzzzzzzzzzing all over the place.
Himself sat up and murmured some expletives that rhyme with 'ducking fly'....rather than flying duck!
I gave a huge sigh and waited for him to get out of bed to deal with the immigrant.......which he duly did.
He put on the light, and homed in on his prey with a pair of underpants as his weapon of choice....they were clean ones, just pulled from the drawer by the side of the bed.
Ahah, the wily bluebottle must have met his type before and avoided the hit with a neat swerving technique.
'Missed the barsteward' he hissed.......by this time the fly was hovering around the light fitting.
Himself climbed up on the bed, to give a better reach.......but a mattress is not a stable surface and there was a lot of leaning and trying to balance......the end result was a leap to the floor, before falling over.
Still the fly taunted him.......onto the bed again(nothing learned)....much vigorous arm waving and overbalancing......almost killing me.
At this point, fearing for my safety I got out of bed and went downstairs and took the canister of fly spray from under the sink.......back upstairs, there was a howl of delight......himself had knocked down the bluebottle.......ah, now we could get some peace and a bit of sleep.
Within 10 minutes the fly was recovered and was doing the same low passes over the bed.
Himself was not impressed.......he put the light on and gave the room a mighty blast from the fly spray.
I swear that I could hear the fly coughing and spluttering......and then that frantic buzzing that they do just before they die.
This fly must have been a Woodbine smoker, because in a few short minutes it was back in the air again.
By now my spouse was truly exasperated....the underpants were out again,and the prey was tracked down and given a 'right hammering'.....this time there was no reprieve.....it was well and truly dead......at last we could get to sleep.
(the whole episode was funnier in reality than the write up sounds) It made me laugh anyway!
