Hurry Down the Chimney

This little guy is from a set that once had twelve assorted Christmas decorations, the first set I ever bought once I had moved out of home. I seem to recall that they were purchased from a hawker who was soliciting for sales at the bank I was working for at the time… It was either that or mail order from Ezibuy!

They were cheap, anyway!

I moved out of home when I was 18, young I know… Not only was I an independent girl – but being without a car and working in town made travelling from the farm to work on my bike a long distance cycle race against the clock in the morning. I got tired of it very quickly… These days the benefits to my upholstery would be manifold but back then I cared less and hated biking more.

I had the opportunity to move into a house on my great-aunt’s property with a girl and her brother neither of whom were people I knew. So iIt was challenging living away from home for the first time and living with strangers but we managed well enouth, and it actually wasn’t long before they moved out to pastures greener (and houses newer) and one of my school chums moved in.

One of the most enduring memories of that time was of my pet cockatiel Boyd.

I came home one afternoon to find the lawnmower sitting in the middle of a half mown lawn, all the doors of the house open and not a soul in sight. I noticed quickly enough that the birdcage was open and the bird either invisible or escaped, so, I wandered off out the back and up toward my aunt’s house (it was a large block of land, around 4.5 hectares). Still seeing no one I started to get a little on the worried side!! I believe may have heard a bit of swearing (or at least some exclamations) and turned to look at the Macrocarpa hedge lining the boundary between neighbouring properties and lo and behold my flatmate Steve was high (probably 12 metres) up in the tree with the bird just waiting for him to come get him.

Boyd was as tame as they come so Steve picked him up shoved him under his jumper and climbed back down the tree. He was sweating bullets though. It was the most discomposed I’d ever seen him! The escape was all his fault and he was dead scared of telling me he’d lost my pride and joy (with good reason!).

Still, I guess all’s well that ends well… though he (Steve) was very subdued and rather helpful around the house for some weeks to follow…