Of Fly Paper and Shaving Foam

As it continues hot and dry, we have had an influx of flies.
     We have dealt with this in two ways:
     First we have invested in some old-fashioned fly-papers. Now I haven't seen these for years. In fact, I didn't know anyone still made them, but Graham came home with some from the shops and we have been amazed at how effective they are (and how many flies we have caught with them). Also as they contain no chemicals, just sticky stuff, they are environmentally friendly and we don't have to worry about any fumes/chemical affecting dogs or humans.
     Secondly I have been using some of the Citronella Room Spray that we sell, as Citronella is a natural fly repellent.
     Now, my eyesight isn't as sharp as it was when I was younger, and spotting the squirty hole proved dangerous. Yes, I did squirt myself in the chest. But I take comfort from the thought that I am also now fly repellent!

     It also reminded me of the Christmas when my dad was first given a can of squirty shaving foam.
     Now, back in the 1970's this was a new thing to us in the countryside, so my mum thought this was a very special gift to give to my dad (and relatively expensive, compared to the shaving soap he usually used).
     My dad couldn't wait to try this out, and hurried off to the bathroom to give it a go.
     We only had a small bathroom, well shower room really, but there were mirrors on opposite walls, to make it feel larger.
     Anyway after some time my dad stormed out of the bathroom and emphatically dumped the can of shaving foam in the rubbish bin.
     'That was a load of rubbish!' he fumed, 'I shook the thing and squirted and squirted and NOTHING came out!'
     We were all a bit dumbfounded, and my mum was rather surprised by the outcome.
     A couple of minutes later, while my dad was still harumphing and reading the newspaper with much angry shaking of the pages in front of him, mum popped her head round the living room door and silently beckoned me to go with her. She pointed to the open bathroom door so I went in to see what the matter was, and there, high up on the bathroom walls was a frothy mass of shaving foam. In fact not just in one place, but all around the bathroom, high up on the walls, and even on the ceiling.
      Dad had obviously been holding the can the wrong way round, and it had squirted with such force that it had shot out and plastered the bathroom above his line of sight.