In the UK last summer the temperatures reached unprecedented heights. I myself can only recollect one summer, 1976, that could possibly compare but there was something I found rather odd about last summer and that was the absence of flies. What was the reason for this? I don't know, pesticides possibly, but it was definitely strange. When I consider the subject more deeply I realize that it couldn't have been pesticides because three bees entered the house, all of which I managed to usher safely outside again through the front door.

The scarcity of flies continued until one day in July Freddie the Fly flew into my life. I know it must have been July because I've just had a look at my old emails and see that my friend, Julia, sent a message from work on August 2nd enquiring on Freddie's health. So by that date she must have already been around long enough to acquire a name. I say she because I always thought of her as female. She was such a delicate, civilized fly and didn't show any of those nasty he-fly traits like continually buzzing your ear holes and that sort of thing.

I first became aware of Freddie while I was exercising one night in the bedroom prior to going off to sleep. Because the weather was so hot I wasn't wearing a great deal and she obviously couldn't resist the vast expanse of exposed flesh. I tried to swat her but she was invariably that little bit too fast for me. Eventually I hit on the idea of turning off the bedroom light going through to the living room then turning on the living room light. Next I waited for Freddie to make her way through to the lighted room before closing the door behind her. I was quite pleased with myself for thinking of such a plan. No fly was going to get the better of me!

When I got up the next morning I found Freddie sitting on the table tapping her feet in an agitated manner obviously not best pleased about being duped the night before.
She was still in the house the next day and the next and slowly but surely she started to wheedle her way into my affections. She began by alighting on my hand kestrel-style then tried to communicate by the use of semaphore, rubbing her little legs together. At this sight my heart started to melt and from that moment on it became impossible for me to give her the rolled up newspaper treatment!

I decided instead to attempt to evict Freddie rather than flatten her and tried opening the front door inviting her to leave. She refused to go! Thinking back I shouldn't have been so surprised at this. As flies go Freddie was intelligent and must have known that it's a tough old world out there. She came to the conclusion that on balance it would be safer to take her chances with the spider under the stairs and a big softy like me.

Freddie liked music and was particularly keen on reggae. When I played my King Tubby CD, she would perch herself on the speaker and derived great pleasure from getting buffeted about by the bass while hanging on for dear life. It must have been the fly equivalent of a roller coaster ride.
When friends came round I would tell them, "Don't swat the fly, she's a pet who goes by the name of Freddie." Soon when they arrived they would ask how Freddie was and say hello and goodbye to her. I got the impression though that some people thought that our association was becoming a little unhealthy. Julia was very understanding. She realized from the start it was a purely platonic relationship; that Freddie and I were above all that sort of mucky business. I never let her sleep in my bedroom though, I didn't want people to think I was going completely mad, did I! Really I shouldn't have cared what the world thought, how could the world possibly understand the feelings we had for each other.

One day I came into the living room to find Freddie splashing around in a glass of orange juice. In a flash I scooped her from the glass then laid her on a magazine to dry off. It took several worrying minutes for her to come round but eventually she started to slowly move her legs. She then began to slowly walk around whilst at the same time flexing her wings. She walked faster and faster before majestically taking off and flying to her favourite lampshade. It was a wonderful moment and I must admit there was a tear in my eye. I may have been ecstatic at the time but in view of subsequent events I should have viewed this incident as a warning.

Freddie had been around for at least four weeks when one day I noticed there was an eerie silence in the house. "Freddie, Freddie, Freddie." but there was no buzzed response and I began to worry. When Julia arrived that evening she found me in a state of deep anxiety. When I told her that Freddie was missing she said, "Don't worry, she may have left the house to seek her fortune in the great outdoors." This thought didn't pacify me however and I had a feeling that something terrible had happened.

Julia went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. She returned moments later with a cup in her hand and asked, "Is this Freddie?" I peered into the cup and there lying in the remnants of a cold cup of tea that I had thoughtlessly left on the kitchen table the night before was the disheveled body of a fly. It was definitely Freddie even in death she was unmistakable.
I buried her in a plant pot on the kitchen windowsill and placed a marble to mark the spot where she lay. I was racked with guilt and it was the least I could do.

For anyone considering a fly as a future pet option let my experience act as a warning and then Freddie may not have died in vain. A fly can drown in as little as a millimetre of liquid so the next time you have cup of tea please, please remember to 'drink up'.

It is now several months since Freddie flew her last and I am finally beginning to come to terms with what happened. There is a lot of truth in that old adage "time is a great healer." So be careful when you're crossing the road but most of all Be Happy.

::::::