A couple of months ago someone wrote to our local paper and posed the question ‘What is the point of Daddy Long Legs (or crane flies)?’  I was a bit irritated at the time.  You might as well ask what is the point of any species.  Daddy Long Legs probably exemplify the purpose of existence better than anything else.  They live only to mate, and then die once they become adults.  En route, they feed on nectar, provide a food source for birds and don’t harm humans (or anything else for that matter except for mosquito larvae).  

If only homo sapiens could justify the purpose of its life quite so well.  The only other species to come close to killing and harming others on such a mass scale as humans is mosquitoes.  These kill millions of people each year by spreading disease but I assume that this is accidental on their part (although a conspiracy theorist who is bored with the McCann or Princess Diana stories might be able to correct me on that).

This week, however, I have had a sneaking sympathy for the man whose home, presumably, had been invaded by Daddy Long Legs.   For our home has been invaded by Fruit Flies.   Fruit flies, or Drosphila funebris, are jolly useful creatures, apparently.  They are the most studied organism in biological research because 75% of known human disease genes have a recognised genetic match in the genetic code of the fruit flies.  I assume this is good news - unless you happen to be a fruit fly in the vicinity of a laboratory.

But one of our visitors – I called her Freda – wasn’t content with being a lab rat or sniffing the rotten shallot in our cupboard.   She decided to emulate humankind by interfering in the lives of others.  Mine.  She hung around me like a crazed groupie, trying to share my lunch and dinner, reading over my shoulder, helping with the cooking and joining in when I shouted abuse at the telly.  But yesterday she went too far and decided she had a liking for Sauvignon Blanc.  My glass of Sauvignon Blanc.    So I decided that it was time Freda learnt to read a newspaper.  Rather successfully, I might add.  Freda absorbed a lot of news in a very short space of time.

I missed her during this morning's coffee break.  And it has just occurred to me that having a fruit fly as a best mate isn't such a bad idea for someone who is batty enough to qualify for the fruit bat of the year award because all she can think of  as a blogging topic is a fruit fly.

Alas, poor Freda! I knew her...