Wednesday, 17 February 2010

The Bird Of Paradise

Over the last 46 years I have been all sorts of bird.

Posh bird was one of my favourites. For some reason East Enders always call me posh bird. When I worked in the bookshop, my stalker, Carl, who was on 'a programme', (presumably not Blue Peter) used to ring me at work and bellow "Ello Posh Bird!" at me. To which my answer was always "Hello Cockney Lad". We must have sounded like a pair of CB radio enthusiasts to my bemused browsers but it was friendly and harmless and I played along. It took me ages to work out what on earth he was saying, even at volume ten, and so our conversations had a time delay on them while I mentally translated the sweating and spitting and jokes I just didn't get. Anyway Posh Bird was a laugh.

Then there is Angry Bird. Angry Bird is the one Darling and the children sometimes get. Not often but when she blows she is like the Mistral. Unforgiving, harsh and cold. Angry Bird arrived today. Too long a night slumbering through a late night film she knew she wouldn't like just for the sake of giving the young enough rope to hang themselves, coming back home at 0030hrs, clearing up the dinner party, wondering how to restore the sitting room carpet. All good so far, and all trials any mother of teenagers is familiar with. Waking up tired, whizzing out for a blood test, returning, laying on a medieval style breakfast banquet, clearing that away, walking the dog, drinking lots of cups of coffee and talking to the fellow mothers picking up... all good again. And finally, a flit to the station with the last of the previous night's dinner party guests, just in time for him to make the 13:19 Kemble train. Angry bird was calm. Until she arrived at the Mall, to take Girls 12 and 13 out clothes shopping and found that Mother Hubbard's cupboard had been raided. The £160 slumbering in my wallet had left the building, in the style of Elvis, by the Stage Door. One of the young clearly picked up the rope I left out and hanged themselves. Too bad.

Kid's are daft buggers. After we had cleared up they all got up again at 3am and went for a walk and drank more wine. And now, on an empty stomach (as a result of being too busy to eat) I'm having a glass of wine and a whine.

Roll on the Bird of Paradise, the Strelitzia. I have a perfect pink cardigan trimmed with orange feathers that is my Bird Of Paradise outfit. I must wake up refreshed tomorrow and choose her, over all my other bird outfits.

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