Weblog Commenting and Trackback by HaloScan.com rockpool in the kitchen: feathers

Tuesday, April 11, 2006


This will be brief. Granny's house is still awash with family; on top of usual animals - and more. Those who guessed feathers got nearest the surprise. All those allergic to birds leave now.

But no it was not peacocks - or Easter chicks. And, alas, no everlasting pool. (Thanks for the idea, MG. She wishes.)

The surprise was two bantams; male and female. The kind with little feathery socks on. Black cock, brown hen. Both pretty. They hop about the back patio, in and out of the palm trees on the garden, competing with the little cats for food - kittens are warier of them than they of the kittens - giving the three small girls lessons in biology; the cockerel is for ever leaping on his brown wife's back. (Granny suspects the biology lessons are not needed, there's plenty of that on the telly. But there you go.)

But she liked the surprise. So did the the girls; they have named the bantams - Granny has no idea why - Rocky and Anina. But that's alright.

Today she, Beloved and the children are cooking dinner. (No, no roast bantam; heaven forfend.) And beforehand she, Granny, is taking the three to see parrots riding bicycles up in the north of the island. Not her idea of heaven; but theirs. (Roast parrot? Certainly not.)

Also the spoonbills are still down on the marshland; which has delighted the rest of the family. One of them took a picture which he sent her by email and she tried to put up here. She failed.

The title of this post is about right, you can see. All ways round.

PS. Beloved is definitely thinking goats these days; not donkeys. 'But goats need milking,' Granny protests. 'Who will do it while we're away?' (She cannot quite see the thin German cosmetic masseuse undertaking this one; even if she has got strong hands.)

'I'm going to teach Mr Handsome. I'll prick holes in the fingers of a rubber glove, fill it with water and see how he gets on, pulling them,' says Beloved.

Granny doesn't know what Mr Handsome will make of this. Nor does she think that the makers called Marigold ever thought of such uses for their product. She awaits the outcome of this suggestion with interest. With rather more than she awaits the arrival of the goats.

(Actually goats snicker delightfully. She likes them. But only so long as they belong to other people.)

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