Fly away, flies!

Flies! The bane of my life. Since Christmas we have been under siege by flies. Not your average domestic house fly. Those shiny green ones, that buzz to let you know they have arrived. They congregate on the kitchen window, pretending that they are looking for a way out, and no matter how many times I spray insecticide on the window - the kind that kills instantly (not!) - there has been no sign of fly mortality whatsoever. I have swatted with the electric tennis racquet which, despite many hours of practising my serve and volley, has also proved ineffective, as they are just too fast. If they do get enmeshed in the wire, a satisfying crackle and blue spark are emitted, but after a few seconds, the stunned fly simply spirals up from its daze to buzz another day.

Somehow they get into the fridge and even the freezer if you turn your back for a second, and there is very little that is more unattractive than the sight of several comatose flies on the fridge shelf. The good thing about this is that, if you are very quick and scoop them up before they recover from their cryogenic coma, you can flush them down the drain. I suspect that they could come back up again if I didn't let the tap run for quite a while just to make sure. I once warmed a plate of food in the microwave and on opening the door, a fly flew out, quite unaffected. No wonder they are considered to be the most dangerous living thing in the world.

I was trying to eat lunch today while three flies buzzed around my hair, even alighting on the hand that was holding the fork to distract me, while another settled on the edge of the plate. They sure are persistent. I have put out jars of fish sauce (didn't even go to look), apple cider vinegar (supposed to do the trick, but no interest there either), hung the copper coins in a bag of water at the door (just got some copper coloured water) and even wiped down the whole kitchen with vinegar.

The flies are definitely not coming from my wheelie bin, as I keep all food scraps in the deep freeze until dirt day. But of course, who knows what the neighbours do. There could well be a fly-breeding factory operating in their bins, in which case there is no solution.