Picture the scene. It’s been a long day (and night) and finally bed is imminent. One thing however is stopping me from diving into my little duvet paradise. A fly, a fat one at that, buzzing around the bedroom. I can’t climb into bed yet, knowing that it may start dive-bombing my sleeping face, or waking me by whizzing past my ears. I’m sure we’ve all suffered these fly-in-the-room problems. When even the widest window won’t serve as an escape, Mr Fly suddenly becomes dumb and can’t see the wide open path to freedom. So what to do? I can’t kill creatures, even if they are small, seemingly insignificant and super annoying. They say everything has a purpose, and I suppose the trillions of flies do too. Perhaps their main purpose is to irritate the humans, to remind them that life shouldn’t be fun and flowers all the time. It should be about chasing a fly with a dish towel, failing to get it to leave and collapsing, defeated on the bed, falling into a hopeful sleep that the fly will find the open doorway and at least fly into the hall during the night, giving my face and ears some respite.

I was wrong. I was awoken that morning not by my usual alarm but by Mr Fly, buzzing crazily around my ears. My first thought is eugh, he was probably crawling all over me half the night. My second thought is, shit is that the time? Realising my alarm clock had failed (it was already fifteen minutes past my usual wake up time) I shoot out of bed and wake the children for school. Had I slept in another fifteen minutes, we would all be late for school and work. Not a good way to start the day.

The fly saved me in the end. Served a purpose that surely he knew about. I opened the kitchen door whilst making my coffee and off he finally flew, out into the free world. I do believe he stayed in the room to make sure I woke up in time. Flies have souls too and who knows which body he had occupied before he became a fly?

Somebody who knows I am not the best timekeeper in the world.