6484/19404
Last night just before bed there was a buzzy fly in our bedroom. I heroically grabbed a pair of swimming trunks and managed to bring them smashing down on the fly with a Herculean flick. The fly was stunned and was now on the floor walking in a confused circle. I came in for the kill, using the only weapon available for me, my swimming trunks, but even though this was a much easier shot I somehow contrived to basically miss the fly and slam my finger into the floor. I didn't break any bones but my right hand pointy finger (the one I use the most out of the ten it turns out) was a bit sprained and ouchy.
I wondered if this had been the fly's tactic all along. Like the Normans on Senlac Hill, a retreat was actually an offensive manoeuvre.
I don't know if the fly survived - I was really being merciful and putting it out of its misery, both of the pain I had inflicted upon it and also of being a fly- but we didn't see it again and I suspect his victory was a Pyrhhic one, as he died in pain in a corner.
But not since a fish managed to strike at the heart of the royal family by nearly assassinating the Queen Mother by getting one of its bones cleverly caught in her throat, has the non-threatening animal kingdom done so well in taking down a prominent member of the human species. My day was ruined. Every time I used the finger - again, it turned out to be much more than I realised, I felt a twinge of mild pain. It was slightly inconvenient. The fly had probably given its life, but that just meant it didn't have to spend any more time being a fly, so that's a win win.
I decided that I would take my revenge on all flies, even ones of very different species to this one. I will become leader of the world and wipe them off the face of the planet. You see if I don't.
Apart from mild discomfort (and I should point out that typing this entry is causing me some even milder pain, as it's more or less, but not quite better now) it was another packed day of family fun as we met up with some friends to go to Knebworth and then back to ours for dinner and a sleepover.
I had especial fun playing on the fort at Knebworth. I was always too timorous as a child to do anything that involved any kind of peril and to be honest even as an adult negotiating my 3 year old round the quite high towers and parapet of the fort was nerve-wracking. My kids have zero fear though and merrily ran round the raised bit of the fort, even though they could have tripped and slipped under the barriers and fallen about 10 feet. I regret my life of cowardice though. This kind of thrill is worth the chance of another sprained finger or bruised head.
It was unseasonably cold though and we ended up with all four kids eating their picnic in the now rather popular play spot of the boot of our car. The adults stood around in the cold, but it was fine. The kids were excited by this adventure and the world turning upside down. At least one of them wanted to drive around like this. It would have been normal in the 70s or 80s when we parents were growing up to stick a kid in the boot in the car was full, but today's youngsters will never get that sharp thrill. Even though I ran from peril as a child it was foisted upon me by the disregard for seatbelts and health and safety. Thank goodness Brexit will bring all that back. We have been mollycoddled.
Then on to see the dinosaurs again and something I've not seen in my four or so visits to Knebworth a model of a tiny horse. Originally horses were the size of dogs and would get eaten by birds. Now look at them. Never give up. You can turn things around. Though it might take hundreds of thousands of years.
I struggled to stay awake for the rest of the day and our dinner was interrupted by excited girls who were having a sleepover in the same bed but couldn't resist coming downstairs. Eventually they had to be separated and so there was half an hour of tears and tantrums to deal with. I sort of enjoyed it all though. It's an important milestone for our daughter, even if her memory will be of the unfairness of us taking her friend away.
