The perennial mystery of where flies go in the winter was cleared up this afternoon. A great many of them where asleep underneath the slates of the tile salesmans steading conversion.
Unlucky for those that had bedded down right where the new chimney had to come through the roof. These individuals were in no fit state for a reveille so early in the season as they tumbled down the roof in the numbing wind. Their final resting place involved a very short swim in the ice and meltwater lying in the gutters, such is the transitory and fragile nature of an insect's life.
Well, Life full stop.
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