This was my life for about two weeks. Suddenly, there were dozens of huge, fat, slow black flies in our lounge windows. Sometimes they were in our kitchen window, as well, but mostly it was the lounge. No clue where they were coming from. I even stuffed the chimney full of newspaper, as Kenny thought that was where they were coming from. Didn't help. At the time, I was in the lounge a lot as I was feverishly finishing the thesis. Or working on it, anyway. I was already stressed. It didn't help that these flies were making me even more twitchy. I was cursing and couldn't sit still... they were making me mad. Crazy. Insane.
We didn't have a flyswat, either. Just a rolled up pieces of newspaper. And lots of smears of dead flies on the windows. And carasses on the floor. I swept up dozens every day, from my murderous rampages. I couldn't help it. It was justifiable flyicide, I swear.
We found out months later that it was because there were dead pigeons in the gutters around the flat above us. Did they get in through the lack of skirting board? I don't know, but that's what I suspect. Cos they weren't getting in the chimney, once I blocked it up. Still, they eventually died out. Thank God. I couldn't take much more.