Why Do Flies Have Eyes?

I’ve been wondering why we spent so much time in Kampot. It’s a lovely provincial capital, set around a river, with the beginnings of a promenade, easy to navigate, beautifully chilled, lots of countryside, plus gorgeous caves, but it isn’t somewhere I’d have pulled off a map as a destination, and I’d never have thought we’d spend the big end of a week there.

I think it’s something about the pace. On our last night, we went down to the river to watch the fishing boats racing down to the sea, an extended spectacle given the average longtail engine is held together with string and hope.

Still, they are undeniably impressive as they progress in their stately fashion out from under the bridge, straining to pass one another with all the leaden determination of an HGV overtaking another on a slope.

We are through to the stragglers, now, and Z is keeping an awed count. “Look, here comes number 42, and his engine’s given up completely so he’s having to use his paddles!”

“I think that blue one might overtake the green one, you know. He’s definitely making progress.”

A fly is bothering him, and his patented Obama move isn’t helping any.

“Mum, why do flies have eyes on the side of their head? It would be better if they had eyes that just looked forward, so you could swat them more easily.”

“Yes, but that wouldn’t last very long in evolutionary terms.”

“I know, and that would mean there’d be no pesky flies.”

“Yes. But then there’d be nothing to eat the shit.”

“Flies eat shit?!”

“Something’s got to.”

“Yes, otherwise there’d be poo all over the place.”

We go back to watching the river.

As a parent, I’ve never been very good at just hanging out, doing nothing in particular. There’s always something to hurry to, or a work deadline to hit, or shopping to be done, the pace is always too fast.

I hope I’ll manage to retain some of this when this year’s over.