The Midweek Nosh-Up

Who's A Pretty Boy? Who's A Clever Boy? Who's A Lonely Boy?

By popular request, this week's interview is with Eddie's pet, Mickey the Budgie
who writes the blogs,

Birds Of A Feather Flock Together
and

Don't Count Your Chicks Before They Hatch

Thank you for the interview, Mickey

A very warm welcome to you and your followers

"Not too warm, Eddie please, and I don't want to end up on any one's dining plate either with my feet stuck in the air . . . and can I tell your readers all about my lady friends? Oh go on, please Eddie!!"

The Midweek Nosh-Up

Here's the first of the standard questions. Why do you blog?

My owner, Eddie Bluelights, won't let me have guests visiting me because it interferes with my elocution lessons and studies. He thinks I am a genius! Well I am! so there! - my IQ is 2 and for a budgie that puts me in Mensa. I am certainly not in the gibbering idiot class and I am a cut above every budgie I know for my flair in all literary matters. Because I am so brainy and I am not allowed to socialise I have never had to opportunity to meet a nice little hen bird of my own age. Alas I have been very unlucky in matters of romance and have never been on a date with anyone, let alone had my first kiss. Isn't that sad? That cruel Eddie did give me a mirror for a consolation prize. I stand there in front of it for hours, bobbing up and down ninety to the dozen like there was no tomorrow, whilst chattering profusely and wondering whether this is all a huge waste of time. My suspicions are well founded because my reflection never seems remotely interested in what I say or what I do because it never seems willing to embark on any kind of budgie conversation, leading to even imaginary and meaningful relationships. So regularly I 'belt the living daylights out of my plastic toy budgie so I can release my anger and frustration.

So to answer the question. "Why do I blog?" I am very lonely little budgie and I asked Eddie if I could have a laptop computer connected to broadband so I could set up a blog and communicate with the outside world. I am very slow at typing and have to jump on the keys and when I have to type capital letters I find it extremely difficult pressing the shift key with one foot or a beak whilst depressing the letter key with my other foot. I have done the splits on numerous occasions whilst embarking on these highly dangerous and painful acrobatics. I cannot imagine the contortions I might have to endure if I set up twitter as well.

To date I have made a few friends with quite a number of little budgies - all seem to be named after their owners for some reason. Some are cock birds, a chap called Suldog comes to mind and Knucklehead and Jules and others, and I have a growing number of hen friends. I have quite a following already including an old crow, a hamster, a few field mice, a clapped out rooster and some lame ducks.

I flirt with some of my favourite budgie hens whom I like very much and I think they like me a lot but unfortunately they always keep me at wings length. In my mind I can hear them say, "Oh you are awful, but we like you". But that's as far as it goes.

Shall I tell you about a few of them? They are all very nice and kind and have a good sense of humour. There is a nice little chick called Marguerite who has lovely big green eyes and likes dancing a lot and eating shrimps. Trouble is she does not like eating millet and I am not too keen on shrimps or crayfish so unfortunately we cannot dine together and make meaningful and polite conversation. She is a high flyer and is so fit she leaves me for dead. She says she would like to Cajun Waltz with me but alas I do not think she would ever agree to have the last dance with me - sob sob. Well she might if I stood on her foot - that would definitely be our last dance. I do wonder how she manages to get those red cowgirl boots on with her webbed budgie feet. She's 'clipped my wings' a few times, calling me a naughty Canille boy or a rascal but I think she likes the Mr Hyde in me just a little, but perhaps she wants me to be that boring Dr Jekyll. Another little chick called Jackie is a school teacher, and I think she regards me as her Teacher's Pet. She is another American and a Georgian Girl and wears a lovely blue top and is crazy about the English Language spoken in England. She asks me incessantly what English phrases or words mean and I have to ask Eddie loads of complicated questions to feed her insatiable appetite in this regard. And of course there is Janine, who is a brilliant writer, journalist, painter, poet, theologian, mathematician, and anything else she puts her mind to - the mind boggles at her achievements and talent and sheer mental acrobatics. She reminds Eddie and I, in her writing style, of the famous Alistair Cooke, who wrote his weekly, "Letter From America". Trouble is, although we can converse together on a very high intellectual plateau, she keeps changing her mind on everything, confuses me - so I never do know where I stand with her, or indeed with any of these lady chicks. However, the one who likes me most I believe is a young bird called Cherry and I know she is wild about me but again we are much too far away from one another. I expect she is having a little chuckle as she reads all this.

Now all these ladies have little families of their own so I they have put me firmly in the friend-zone, but I regard them as good friends.

So my main reason for blogging is loneliness and making new friends. I am sorry I rabbit, or should I say, 'budgie on' so much (like Eddie does) but you jolly well asked the question so I am jolly well going to answer it. Next question!

What's the story behind your blog name?

Oh what an exceeding boring question! Typical of Eddie - should I liven it up a bit?
Now listen Eddie your little budgie has two blogs (have a look if you don't believe me!):

Birds Of A Feather Flock Together Well they do. I was setting up my blog on blogger and I was asked for a blog name. This is the first one that came to mind. There is a pub called Birds Of A Feather near where we live and I like a little drink now and then so we Flocked Together in the pub and hence the title came to mind. Yes Eddie sometimes does let me come out with him. I sit on his head and if I am in a good mood leave it occasionally for biological reasons - if he annoys me I let him have it!

Don't Count Your Chicks Before They Hatch This is my second blog and I currently have one follower, which is a bit disappointing. I was expecting loads of eager readers queuing to read my stuff but only one came. The blog lives up to it's title and is a bit of a flop.

Well my answers are almost as boring as your question, Eddie, it's more exciting watching paint dry answering these questions. I'd much rather read George W. Bush gaffs like, "I'm honoured to shake the hand of a brave Iraqi citizen who had his hand cut off by Saddam Hussein" or when he first saw the White House his immortal observation is written in the annals of history, "It is white!"

What is the best thing about being a blogger?

I can write what I like and when I like, say what I like, make friends, make enemies if I chose - but I am a nice little bird and say very nice things, especially to the ladies.

What key advice would you give to a newbie blogger?

If you are a young, attractive, unattached, kind, considerate, loving and rich female budgerigar then I would advise you to email me straight away and we can meet up and dine together at my favourite restaurant. If you are not - then kindly shove off!

However Eddie is insisting I answer the question as it is intended, so I would advise newbie bloggers write from the heart and from personal experience, or if you haven't had any, then invent stories, like Eddie does.

What is the most significant blog post you've ever read?


I just loved reading Grumpy Old Ken's story of a pet hamster called Rambo. The story is real and brilliant and called Rambo by Name, Rambo by Nature. Please pop over and read it when you have finished reading my roast/midweek nosh-up.

I know Auntie Robynn at Robynn's Ravings had a pet budgie called Kiwi and she will one day write a story about him. I emailed her today and she gave me some details of Kiwi which made me very excited.

My budgie's name was Kiwi. He was neon yellow/green with a big, dark green Canadian maple leaf on his breast. He had a gimpy leg (curled talons he could not straighten out), and was caught in the park behind our house. He gave up his freedom for a bowl of bread crumbs (how alike we were)! I snatched him up with my hand and he bit me all the way home. After a week of silence, he launched into THE most terrific songs and could imitate any bird in the wild. I MISS KIWI!!!! Looking forward to the story!

Oh! yes! yes! yes! Kiwi will be my best buddy and I'll fly over to the States to meet him and we could then paint the town red together, and maybe pick up a couple of birds.  I am not sure how I am going to get there yet because it is much too far for me to fly. I might hitch a ride on the back of some migrating geese. I'm sure they will agree if I recite some silly poems to them en route.

What is the most significant blog post you've ever written?

Eddie will tell you he wrote these two stories. I say, "Tosh!"

Eddie was stuck for words so I dictated everything to him. Both stories were about me, of course. The first was Mickey The Celibate Budgie and it is Eddie's confession about keeping me away from chicks so I could concentrate on my academic life. The story includes how I learned to fly, and how I managed to recite long epic poems and how Eddie annoyed me by entering the room with his silly false eyes and nose, scaring the life out of me. I was so annoyed I dive bombed him like a German Stuka plane.



The second, Mickey The Lovesick Budgie, recounts how Eddie was sorry for depriving me of a natural and full life and our attempts to rectify my sad situation - and how I was on the receiving end of a lot of embarrassing comments from a load of teasing budgie hens. I am still fuming about it!

Finally, there is an account in Eddie's five-part play entitled, 767 Weddings, 2 Irate Vicars and Almost A Funeral right at the end, part 5, when I travel backwards in time with Eddie to 1891 and meet a charming little budgie hen called Elizabeth. I decide to remain with her while Eddie returns to the present time.

If you were to suggest two blogs for roasting who would you pick, and why?

I would roast Grumpy Old Ken again for his Rambo the hamster story, Rambo by Name, Rambo by Nature, as mentioned.

Marguerite of Cajun Delights because Eddie is always going on about her and thinks it's about time she was roasted.

That concludes the formal aspect of the interview but it would be nice to get to know you a little better while you are slowly turning on the roasting spit. So while you are screaming in agony above the open fire here are a few more questions for you.
Pick three things you can't live without (no you cannot have ice cubes to cool you down)

Cuttlefish, Millet, Female Company.

If we were to make a movie about blogland, what would it be and who would you cast in the leading roles?

I would be the star in Alfred Hitchcock's film, The Birds.
I would get a load of sea gulls to dive bomb Eddie. I would enjoy watching him run like hell with his new bionic hip to see if he could outrun Steve Austen.

If you could live your life again who would you be, and why?

I would love to be born in Australia in the wild and speak freely in budgie language and not have to say ever again, Georgie Porgie Pudding and Pie. It is totally ridiculous of Eddie to teach me this stupid poem when I could have been concentrating on learning a sonnet so I could woo a young chick and melt her heart. She would have been very impressed with a sonnet but if I go up to a chick and say, "Who's a pretty Boy!" she is going to think either "I'm God's gift to budgies" or "A self opinionated Old Fart!" or "I am extremely weird".

You have been given a wonderful talent from above. This causes you to make your mark on humanity and be world famous. In which area would prefer: a best selling novelist, a brilliant 
artist, a gifted musician, a fantastic singer, a charismatic leader, anything you choose, and why?

In Mickey The Celibate Budgie I explain how I could have played any instrument being highly musical - so I am already a gifted musician. I often blow my own trumpet!

If you were an ice cream cone, which flavour would you prefer and who would you most want to lick you?


Millet flavoured ice cream of course! Golly, Eddie asks some dumb questions doesn't he? As for the latter part of my answer, now look I am at the grateful age!

Describe in one sentence your perfect day.


It would be wonderful if I could return to 1891 and meet my little hen budgie Elizabeth again. That would be my perfect day. And there are two sentences not one but she was special.

If you were a fictional writer which one would you be and why?

Well I am not a fictional writer so Eddie why are you asking such a dumb question as this?
However if you must have an answer I do like H Rider Haggard stories but they are a bit dated now. Why? Because I like him - silly!

What was your most embarrassing moment?

Coming onto this show for starters! Why can't you leave people alone, Eddie? You ask people if they want to be roasted, plague the life out of them, bully them, make them do it. You use your wit and charm if you can and if that doesn't work you get all nasty and start sending snotty emails all over blogland. Isn't he a nasty cruel man, folks? You are a naughty, naughty boy, Eddie!

And finally if you have answered all these questions I invite you to ask me one in return - it's the least I can do. OK fire away!


Here is my question to you.

When I fell off my perch after just failing to learn the last verse by just one word of Georgie Porgie Pudding And Pie you and Maggie May had a little funeral in the back garden. Why did you bury me only 6 inches down? The cat dug me up! . . . . . .  and ate me!!

(Sorry Mickey)

Thank you Mickey for the interview. Gosh you are a powerful lad aren't you - you roasted me!

_______________________________________

Hope you enjoyed this little digression from the normal Sunday Roast. I cannot add it to The Sunday Roast column but I am introducing a new midweek sequel called The Midweek Nosh-Up where I invite back previous roastees to answer some or all of the new questions I have introduced. I am gathering material at present so it will be a while before I launch it.

767 Weddings, 2 Irate Vicars And Almost A Funeral - END

Conclusion

(Continued from Episode 4)

James Pendletons of all shapes and sizes, fat ones, thin ones, small or large, handsome or ugly or just plain, all entered the church to Bach’s Toccata and Fugue, played yet again by the talented organist. There were so many Pendletons he followed this masterpiece of music and recital by all his other party pieces -again to tremendous applause and he finished with a bow to the audience who brought the house down with their clapping and shouts of "Encore".

Both vicars, shaking their heads in protest, were rather peeved at this latest delay. However, there were sounds of approval and satisfaction between all the Elizabeths and James as each one inspected their range of suitors and with remarkable speed they selected a James or Elizabeth to their liking. Before long they had rearranged themselves, each James with an Elizabeth sitting on his lap since there were no more seats available. The fluttering of eyelashes sounded as though the whole congregation was situated inside the centre of a large bee colony.

1534 people all smiled profusely at their new partners, making eyes at each other. Yet there remained still two bridesmaids who burst into tears. The vicar ambled over to them to enquire how he could comfort them.

“We are both 25 and have no partner still – we too do not want to be left on the shelf”, explained one pretty young lady.

“I cannot imagine that you ever could be, either of you. What are your names?” enquired the vicar.

Together they replied, “Elizabeth Pendleton."

"What! - more Elizabeths and both Pendletons!" exclaimed the entire company.

"We are first cousins once removed from each other. We are related to James Pendleton from Liverpool as his second cousins once removed. Elizabeth is a very popular name, as is Pendleton, but the family tree researchers have not found us yet so alas we belong to nobody and cannot find our rightful place in the family tree which is becoming terribly complicated, demanding acres and acres of paper to get all the details down. We are not there - anywhere! It is most upsetting! Oh why can't they find us, and find a partner for us?”

“Well, I may be able to assist you my dear", said the vicar addressing the first young lady, who was the most attractive, of course. “I am unattached and available – will I do as suitor?”

“Oh yes your reverence! Anyone would do really! Em, sorry! But you will do nicely - yet, sigh, I had hoped for a James”.

“Well, actually I am a James, my full name is Reverend James Evans. I would be honoured if you agreed to be my wife, if I may be so bold and if you forgive the speed of my affection.”

“Oh, yes, I’m so happy”, said Elizabeth, "I have a James at last!"

“Then that is settled”, said the vicar, “We shall make the arrangements for our wedding. Perhaps Reverend Harding would kindly do the honour this day!”

“Excuse me!” said the organist, addressing the second ‘available’ Elizabeth Pendleton, “my name too is James Evans and I would be honoured if you would be my wife - you look decidedly musical if I may say so - I can tell by your hands - I would think they span an octave and three, at least! And your Adam's apple looks as though you have a wonderful singing voice.”

She replied 'A Capella' in a beautiful soprano voice which rattled the chandeliers, “I am very musical and you are so observant. I can sing well and I play well. Does that mean I can get to play on your organ?” She finished her sentence in a loud crescendo, which made everyone gasp.

“My word, what a voice! Certainly, come up and join me in a duet - I will share my keyboard with you and we can share our lives together! I cannot imagine how musical our children will be!"

“Then that is all settled, everyone is happy”, said Vicar Evans, “may I proceed now you have all settled down with your chosen ones? I am getting extremely nervous because I am due to officiate here for a funeral service, scheduled after this wedding, in 5 minutes and we've barely started with this wedding - all these extra bodies have multiplied the time factor by a thousand, and . . . . . . !”

Walter interrupted . . . . "Excuse me Vicar, a horse driven hearse has arrived outside with a coffin, some guests and funeral Paul Bearers. Also quite independently three others have arrived - a gentleman describing himself as the Bishop with two nuns attending."

"Oh! jeepers! Just what I wanted, I must say! How embarrassing! Show them in - I guess I'll have to modify the service yet again! What a mess I am in now!"

At that precise moment Marguerite's MP3 player turned itself on with the volume set very loudly. Everyone was spellbound because this miraculous little machine emitted some strange music - it was playing a long Cajun Waltz and although all the folk there did not know this modern music they all knew a waltz when they heard one. Soon their feet started tapping in beat to the music and beating time, 1,2,3 and 1,2,3 - especially the ladies.

With the music in full flow the Bishop and two nuns strode into the church. The Bishop looked rather amused and addressing the vicar said, "We've heard you are having one of your a 'doos' here, Rev Evans, and thought we'd pop over - your 'parties' are far more interesting and amusing to us than playing croquet, aren't they my sisters? Quite a 'hoot' usually! judging by all these ladies sitting on these gentle men's laps. Can anyone join in, or is this some kind of game you are introducing into the church?

"Tell me, what do you want me to say to the funeral entourage - they've been waiting for an hour and the deceased is getting decidedly impatient, although he's not doing much to complain at the moment! Better get it sorted soon before he wakes up and asks, why the delay!"

"Wheel them all in, please!", said the flustered vicar.

"Don't let me stop your enjoyment", said the Bishop, "please play that music again, we rather like it don't we sister Mary and sister Joan? Rather fitting for a hearse and a body entering the church to a waltz, methinks, if that won't wake him up then nothing will! Quite unusual, Vicar! but innovative, I would say. It might well catch on!"

The sisters nodded in approval.

The music started again and Marguerite made a beeline for Eddie, "Come on cher, at long last we can have a little cuddle to my music - dancez avec moi - we can do a little Cajun Waltz because you have been a very good boy lately - don't be shy you gorgeous British gentleman, I will not bite you and I've had my breakfast already, shrimps and crayfish, so you are quite safe!"

Eddie, not the best dancer in the world, nodded, saying, "Enchante!" and counted "1,2,3 and 1,2,3" to get the feel of the dance and then he took the plunge. How could he refuse? Both the lovely Marguerite and the music beckoned him and shortly both organists joined in as well, revelling in a new musical slant which bound them as something they enjoyed in common.

Marguerite remarked that the Cajun Two-Step may be a little difficult to learn at short notice so she had programmed in the Cajun Waltz instead. Eddie took her in his arms and they waltzed expertly down the aisle as if they were magically charmed by Marguerite's leopard skin shoes - once they started to dance it seemed they could not stop.

"Ooh you are so strong, Eddie, quelle muscle avec votre jambes. Now you have caught me, Mr Bluelights, what next are you going to do?"

"Oh! Err! Oh" Er, I'll think of something!"

"I thought you wanted to whisper sweet nothings in my ear as you commented so politely on my blog! What a lot of sweet compliments you make! What did you want to say to me, cher?"

"Er, nothing as yet! Er! I cannot multi-task right now I'm concentrating on the dance!"

"Oh! you are just like all Cajun men! They cannot do anything romantic without a drink of beer and a few shrimps!"

As they danced they were followed closely by the Bishop with the two nuns - everyone was spellbound as to how he managed to dance with two ladies at once yet he did so with great aplomb. Then one by one each Elizabeth grabbed her James and they followed. Janine managed to find a stray usher, as did both Cherry and Jackie, whilst Meredith, finding David, followed, but she was rather annoyed because instead of concentrating on his dance partner he seemed more interested in taking photos.

Round and round the church they went until the music stopped and miraculously the leopard skin dancing shoes stopped dancing and they stood there motionless with Eddie gazing into those big green eyes.

They all took their seats as the beaming Bishop resumed the conversation, taking command of the situation.

"Well, we did enjoy that didn't we sisters? Now Vicar Evans, what is the full scope of the problem? Perhaps I can assist to muster a solution to this chaos that lies before me!" said the Bishop, obviously loving every moment.

"It's a very long story - perhaps you'd better start reading from Episode 1"

Five minutes later the Bishop had a full grasp of the situation.

"The solution is very simple, we have 2 Vicars and a Bishop and between us we can undertake all the weddings here except one plus the funeral - we can do it in one sitting, a sort of combined wedding/funeral service.

"The wedding of James from Liverpool to Elizabeth Evans must take place in St Benedicts church, Liverpool under the remit of Rev Harding - that will be later. All the rest can be done here, including yours Vicar!

"Now bring in the coffin please - who is the deceased?"

"James Pendelton, your grace!"

"What! Another James Pendelton - a deceased one at that!", exclaimed the vicar, "Oh No! I cannot believe this! Am I mad or is this a total nightmare? I have total information overload! I cannot cope, please give me a glass of water." The exasperated vicar was almost spent with exhaustion.

Said the Bishop, "Come on old chap it's only a name, dear boy, very common round these parts. Let us proceed. This combined wedding and funeral ceremony must be a first in my considerable experience in ecclesiastic matters! The hymn choices are going to be a bit tricky, how about these for a short list to cater for weddings and funerals simultaneously?

'Nearer my God to Thee',
'Abide with me',
'Rock of Ages',
'Give me strength',
'Help, Lord, the souls that though hadst made, and perhaps,
'Deliver us Lord'

"There, continued the Bishop, "the balance should be about right from that little lot! Of course banns of marriage should be called first for every Elizabeth and every James, but as Bishop of this Parish and with all my considerable authority I am in agreement to waive this particular requirement - we all want to get home for our teas as quickly as possible after all this excitement. I see the registrar is here. Little fellow, can you manage to write all the details of the deceased documentation plus the, let me see 767 plus 2 = 769 marriages? No! Well there are 694 (sorry 695 at the last count) followers of an Australian photographer outside doing nothing! Go and elicit their assistance and bring them in to witness the weddings and help with the writing! There that's settled! Of course there will be a huge shortage of rings so today we shall be using imaginary ones unless someone can miraculously drum up 769 of them. Now let me begin."

"But you grace! If we have any more people in this church it will sink! It will be too heavy", protested the vicar.

"Rubbish, my man, oh ye of little faith - this church is built on rock and not on sand! Just do it, and get them all in, there's a good chap!"

"First! I want the two feuding James Pendletons and their Elizabeth partners to come to the front, shake hands and make up. There is no reason how you can expect eternal forgiveness if you cannot forgive each other right here on Earth - and you've got to mean it as well - not to just pretend! Come come and shake hands. There that's better! I don't expect you to have Sunday lunch together but be civil and nice to one another!"

It was then Mickey flew towards Eddie full of the joys of spring. For he had been asking all the Elizabeths if they knew of any little budgie hens available. His luck was in for a little green budgie hen winked at him as she peeped out from a handbag - she had been watching him for half an hour and thought to herself, 'This is the chap for me'.

Mickey flew over to her and said, "Hi babe, what's your name then, my your are lassie with a classy chassis? Don't tell me, I bet your name is Elizabeth or is it Lizzie?"

She nodded, "Lizzie".

"Thought so, suits you. What lovely eyes you have! Do you realise I have travelled through time itself just to meet you? Come light of my life, come fly with me!"

He took off and she followed him. They flew round and round, up and down, weaving between the pews and furnishings. It was love at first flight. The congregation loved it - they all clapped in admiration of their acrobatics. After a while they both landed on the Bishop's mitre. Mickey said, "Your grace, we are in love. Will you marry us?"

"Well why not?" said the Bishop, "The more the merrier. Are there any field mice out there that want to splice to knot, or perhaps a couple af rabbits? Speak up - it's your last chance!"

Mickey and Lizzie's little service was done first and was very short. Mickey kissed Elizabeth affectionately on the beak but she blushed profusely. "Not in front of all these people, dear!" she said.

The Bishop commanded, "Now to the service, there are 767 couples divided by three which equals 256.333 each." No that won't do! We can't start cutting people into three! Oh! I'll do it all and you two can join in - so here we go!"

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to say farewell to this deceased gentleman, John Pendleton, and to witness the marriages between John Pendleton and Elizabeth Evans, John Pendleton and Elizabeth Pendleton . . . . . . . . . etc . . . . . . . . etc . . . . . "

He read all 767 what stamina!

"Has anyone got any cause of impediment why these couples may be married?"

SILENCE (wonderful!)

"Do all the James Pendletons take your chosen Elizabeth Evans or Pendleton to be your lawful wedded wife?"

"YES!"

"Do all Elizabeth . . . . . . . . . . "

The service was highly unorthodox and lasted 6 hours but eventually it was completed with the funeral section finally over as well. There was no sign of a protest from within the coffin which was a relief for all, although people nearby rather thought they could hear an additional voice joining in the hymn choruses.

The Bishop concluded, "You are all married, you may kiss the bride but make sure she is the correct one. You are free now to go forth and multiply and fill the Earth. I expect Rev. Evans will be inundated with Christenings within the year."

"There remains one thing to do to unravel this fiasco! That is to get the other wedding party to the correct church and I ask Eddie Bluelights to use his motorised contraption to get them there as soon as possible. The service is over go in peace, . . . . wait for it, after the blessing!"

The organist, James Thomas, and his new bride, Elizabeth Pendleton, seized their chance for glory and played with wild abandon as a duet this time all the difficult organ pieces in their repertoire as 767 happy couples left the church. At the end they did a little Cajun Waltz which prompted some couples to dance down the aisle out of the church. Vicar Evans was exhausted and relieved it was all over. Rev Harding wondered still whether he was asleep and dreaming. He looked shell shocked.

The Bishop took it all in his stride and commented that he had not enjoyed an afternoon as much for as long as he could remember and asked Rev Evans what entertainment he had planned for next week.

James and Elizabeth boarded the ambulance together with all their principal players, Walter, Sarah, Cyril and other close family. Rev Harding would travel on the stretcher for a well deserved rest.

Eddie kissed goodbye to all his blogging friends and said he hoped to meet them all again in Oz when he finally gets round to writing more of the story instead of labouring around the spit roasting people.

It was then that Mickey spoke to Eddie. "I am not going back with you, Eddie! I want to stay here with Lizzie in this time zone. It is much nicer! The people are much nicer! The air is much nicer! I don't want to go back to that horrible world in which we live where there is back biting and nastiness and political correctness - the few have ruined it for the many - it is simply not nice living in 2009!"

"I understand, Mickey, just what I was thinking - it is much nicer here but I have to go back because my family is there. But you cannot stay here, Mickey! You might alter the whole course of history! You could seriously violate the laws of cause and effect! Just think if you and Lizzie have some chicks and one of them becomes your ancestor you could run the risk of a fatal error in the time-space continuum! It might cause the whole universe to quietly disappear! Interfering with the laws of time is highly dangerous!"

Mickey argued, "Well that's what you have been trying to do today isn't it, with you trying to alter James's mind concerning 1905 and hoping when you return to our time you will find James living to a ripe old age? What happens if he does? Then you will have altered the course of human history and that could cause a space time violation too, couldn't it? They might have more children and that might alter the course of history as well!

"That's different, I think, because James and Elizabeth are both here already and I am trying only to change an action and not introduce a being from the future into the equation belonging to a different time. That must cause a violation."

Lizzie interjected, "I don't think it will be a problem because I cannot have children - the vet says I am infertile so Mickey being here cannot in any way alter the laws of cause and effect."

"That should be alright I guess, but I will miss you, Mickey! and you were a fantastic substitute for a Sat Nav."

They said goodbye with tears in their eyes and Eddie drove away with the sirens and blue lights flashing. For a little way the two budgies flew beside them making ambulance noises but finally could not keep up and returned to their new life together.

"Boy have I got some questions for you, great grandfather, and grandad and grandma!" said Eddie as they sped to St Benedicts church.

Meanwhile Congleton church was completely empty when old Joseph Pendleton, who had been dozing for several hours, woke and enquired, "What did that lady want to know about George Pendleton, the miller?” Where is she? I have a lot of information for her!"

"Oh shut up!", said Vicar James Evans, "I've had more than enough today!"

The End
(Curtains! yes it probably is!)

(If you have missed earlier installments it might be worth starting at Episode 1)

Also you may be wondering about my little budgie, Mickie. I have written two popular stories about him.

Mickey the Celebate Budgie HERE

and

Mickey the Love-Sick Budgie HERE

Episode 5:- 767 Weddings, 2 Irate Vicars and almost a Funeral

(Continued from Episode 4) Conclusion

James Pendletons of all shapes and sizes entered the church to Bach’s Toccata and Fugue, played yet again by the talented organist, followed by all his other party pieces -again to tremendous applause. Both vicars were rather peeved at this latest delay. However, there were sounds of approval and satisfaction between all the Elizabeths and James as each one inspected their range of suitors and with remarkable speed they selected a James or Elizabeth of their preference. Before long they had rearranged themselves, each James with an Elizabeth sitting on his lap since there were no more seats available. They all smiled profusely at their new partners, making eyes at each other.

Yet there remained still two bridesmaids weeping. The vicar ambled over to them to enquire how he could comfort them.

“We are both 25 and have no partner still – we too do not want to be left on the shelf”, explained one pretty young lady.

“I cannot imagine that you will be, either of you. What are your names?” enquired the vicar.

Together they replied, “Elizabeth Pendleton – we are first cousins once removed from each other. We are related to James Pendleton from Liverpool as his second cousins once removed. Elizabeth is a very popular name, as is Pendleton, but the family tree researchers have not found us yet so we belong to nobody and cannot find our rightful place in the family tree which is becoming terribly complicated, demanding acres of paper to get all the details down. We are not there - anywhere! It is most upsetting.”

“Well, I may be able to assist you my dear, said the vicar addressing the first young lady, who was the most attractive, of course. “I am unattached and available – will I do?”

“Oh yes your reverence! Anyone would do really! You will do nicely but I had hoped for a James”.

“Well, actually I am a James, my full name is Rev James Evans. I would be honoured if you agreed to be my wife.”

“Oh, I’m so happy”, said Elizabeth, "I have a James at last!"

“Then that is settled”, said the vicar, “Then we shall make the arrangements for our wedding. Perhaps Reverend Harding would kindly do the honour!”

“Excuse me!” said the organist, addressing the second ‘available’ Elizabeth Pendleton, “my name too is James Evans and I would be honoured if you would be my wife - you look decidedly musical if I may say so - I can tell by your hands - I would think they span an octave and three, at least! And your Adam's apple looks as though you have a wonderful singing voice.”

“I am very musical, you are so observant. I can sing well and I play. Does that mean I can play on your organ?”

“Certainly, come up and join me in a duet - I will share my keyboard with you and we can share our lives together!”

“Then that is all settled, everyone is happy”, said Vicar Evans, “may I proceed now you have all settled down with your chosen ones? I am getting extremely nervous because I am due to officiate during a funeral service, scheduled after this wedding, in 5 minutes and we've barely started with this wedding - it has multiplied time wise by a factor of a few hundred, and . . . . . . !”

Walter interrupted . . . . "Excuse me Vicar, a horse driven hearse has arrived outside with a coffin, some guests and funeral paul bearers. Also quite independently three others have arrived - a gentleman describing himself as a Bishop with two nuns attending."

"Oh! jeepers! Just what I wanted, I must say! Show them in - I guess I'll have to modify the service again! What a mess!"

The Bishop and two nuns strode into the church. The Bishop looked rather amused. "We've heard you are having one of your a 'doos' here, Rev Evans, and thought we'd pop over - your 'parties' are far more interesting and amusing than playing croquet, aren't they my sisters? Quite a 'hoot' usually! judging by all these ladies sitting on these gentlemen's laps, can anyone join in? Or is this some kind of game you are introducing into the church? Tell me, what do you want me to say to the funeral entourage - they've been waiting for an hour and the deceased is getting decidedly impatient, although he's not doing much to complain at the moment! Better get it sorted soon before he does!"

"Wheel them all in!", said the flustered vicar.

"What is the full scope of the problem? Perhaps I can assist to muster a solution to this chaos that lies before me!" said the Bishop, obviously loving every moment.

"It's a very long story - perhaps you'd better start reading from Episode 1"

Five minutes later the Bishop had a full grasp of the situation.

"The solution is very simple, we have 2 Vicars and a Bishop and between us we can undertake all the weddings here except one plus the funeral - we can do it in one sitting. The wedding of James from Liverpool to Elizabeth must take place in St Benedicts church, Liverpool under the remit of Rev Harding - that will be later. All the rest can be done here, including yours Vicar! Now bring in the coffin please - who is the deceased?"

"James Pendelton, your grace!"

"What! Oh No! I cannot believe this! Am I mad or is this a nightmare? I have total information overload!" said the exasperated vicar, almost spent with exhaustion.

"Come on old chap it's only a name, dear boy, very common round these parts - let us proceed. This combined wedding and funeral ceremony must be a first in my considerable experience! The hymn choices are going to be a bit tricky, how about these foe a short list?

'Nearer my God to Thee',

'Abide with me',

'Rock of Ages',

'Give me strength',

'Help, Lord, the souls that though hadst made, and perhaps,

'Deliver us Lord'

There, the balance should be about right from that little lot! There should be banns called, of course, but as Bishop I am in agreement to waive that requirement - we all want to get home for our teas after all. I see the registrar is here. Little fellow, can you manage to write all the details of the deceased documentation plus the, let me see 767 plus 2 = 769 marriages? No! Well there are 694 (sorry 695 at the last count) followers of an Australian photographer outside doing nothing! Go and elicit their assistance and bring them in to witness the weddings and help with the writing! There that's settled! Of course there will be a huge shortage of rings so today we shall be using imaginary ones unless someone can miraculously drum up 769 of them. Now let me begin."

"But you grace! If we have any more people in this church it will sink! It will be too heavy", protested the vicar.

"Rubbish, my man, oh ye of little faith - this church is built on rock and not on sand! Just do it, and get them all in, there's a good chap!"

"First! I want the two feuding James Pendletons and their Elizabeth partners to come to the front, shake hands and make up. There is no reason how you can expect eternal forgiveness if you cannot forgive each other - and you've got the mean it! Come come. There that's better! I don't expect you to have Sunday lunch together but be civil and nice to one another!"

It was then Mickey flew towards Eddie full of the joys of spring. For he had been asking all the Elizabeths if they knew of any little budgie hens available. His luck was in for a little green budgie hen winked at him as she peeped out from a handbag - she had been watching him for half an hour and thought to herself, 'This is the chap for me'. Mickey flew over to her and said, "Hi babe, what's your name then? Don't tell me, I bet your name is Elizabeth or is it Lizzie?"
She nodded, "Lizzie".
"Thought so, suits you. What lovely eyes you have! Do you realise I have travelled through time itself just to meet you? Come lassie with the classy chassis, come fly with me!"
He took off and she followed him. They flew round and round, up and down, weaving between the pews and furnishings. It was love at first flight. The congregation loved it - they all clapped in admiration of their acrobatics. After a while they both landed on the Bishop's mitre. Mickey said, "Your grace, we are in love. Will you marry us?"
Their little service was done first and was very short. Mickey kissed Elizabeth affectionately on the beak but she blushed profusely. "Not in front of all these people, dear!" she said.
The Bishop commanded, "Now to the service, there are 767 couples divided by three which equals 256.333 each." No that won't do! Can't start cutting people into three! Oh! I'll do it all and you two can join in - so here we go!"
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to say farewell to this gentleman, John Pendleton, and to witness the marriages between John Pendleton and Elizabeth Evans, John Pendleton and Elizabeth Pendleton . . . . . . . . . etc . . . . . . . . etc.
Has anyone got any cause of impediment why these couples may be married?"
SILENCE (wonderful!)
"Do all the John Pendletons take your chosen Elizabeth Evans or Pendleton to be your lawful wedded wife?"
"Do all Elizabeth . . . . . . . . . . "
The service was highly unorthodox and lasted for hours but eventually it was completed with the funeral finally over as well. There was no sign of a protest from within the coffin which was a relief for all.
The Bishop concluded, "You are all married, you may kiss the bride but make sure she is the correct one. You are free now to go forth and multiply and fill the Earth. I expect Rev. Evans will be inundated with Christenings within the year."
"There remains one thing to do to unravel this fiasco! That is to get the other wedding party to the correct church and I ask Eddie Bluelights to use his motorised contraption to get them there as soon as possible. The service is over go in peace, . . . . wait for it, after the blessing!"
The organist, James Thomas, and his new bride, Elizabeth Pendleton, seized their chance for glory and played with wild abandon as a duet this time all the difficult organ pieces in their repertoire as 767 happy couples left the church. Vicar Evans was exhausted and relieved it was all over. Rev Harding wondered still whether he was asleep and dreaming. He looked shell shocked. The Bishop took it all in his stride and commented that he had not enjoyed an afternoon as much for as long as he could remember and asked Rev Evans what he had planned for next week.
James and Elizabeth boarded the ambulance together with all their principal players, Walter, Sarah, Cyril and other close family. Rev Harding would travel on the stretcher for a well deserved rest.
It was then that Mickey spoke to Eddie. "I am not going back with you, Eddie! I want to stay here with Lizzie in this time zone. It is much nicer! The people are much nicer! The air is much nicer! I don't want to go back to that horrible world in which we live!"
"I understand, Mickey, just what I was thinking - it is much nicer here. I have to go back because my family is there. But you cannot stay here, Mickey! You might alter the whole course of history! You could seriously violate the laws of cause and effect! Just think if you and Lizzie have some chicks and one of them becomes your ancestor you could run the risk of a fatal error in the time-space continuum! It might cause the whole universe to quietly dissapear! Interfering with the laws of time is highly dangerous!"
Mickey argued, "Well that's what you have been trying to do today isn't it, with you trying to alter James's mind concerning 1905 and hoping when you return to our time you will find John and James living to a ripe old age? What happens if they do? That could cause a space time violation too, couldn't it? They might have more children and that might alter the course of history as well!
"That's different, I think, because James and Elizabeth are both here already and I am trying only to change an action and not introduce a being into the equation belonging to a different time."
Lizzie interjected, "I don't think it will be a problem because I cannot have children - I had a hysterectomy last year so Mickey being here cannot in any way alter the laws of cause and effect."
"That should be alright I guess, but I will miss you, Mickey! and you were a fantastic substitute for a Sat Nav."
They said goodbye with tears in their eyes and Eddie drove away with the sirens and blue lights flashing. For a little way the two budgies flew beside them making ambulance noises but finally could not keep up and returned to their new life together.
"Boy have I got some questions for you, great grandfather, and grandad and grandma!" said Eddie as they sped to St Benedicts church.

Meanwhile Congleton church was completely empty when old Joseph Pendleton, who had been dozing, woke and enquired, "What did that lady want to know about George Pendleton, the miller?” Where is she? I have a lot of information for her!"

The End

(Curtains)

(If you have missed earlier installments it might be worth starting at Episode 1)

Finally here is a riddle! It has to be presented as a strong Irish accent - otherwise the game would be given away.

Here it is:

There were twins

One was 'terty'

The other was 'tertyto'

One was born in March

The other's birthday was in September

And they married each other.

How is all this possible?

(I'll give you the answer next time - but I'll give you a hint. They are natural and identical twins)

I must go now because some men in white coats have just knocked on my door. I am now going to pour myself a stiff drink, have some fish and chips and inform my good wife that I have resurfaced into the real world for a few days - she thinks I'm mad! I am having a rest from blogging and she has now my undivided attention - goodnight!

Episode 4:- 767 Weddings, 2 Irate Vicars and almost a Funeral

(Continued from Episode 3)

First, I wish you all a very Happy Easter - also, at the start of this post I am digressing a little for there is a serious matter I wish to get off my chest concerning my great grandfather and his father before him. I have built this into the story along with my true belief that Jesus will always help us in our hour of need. I hope you will all bear with me but this matter is 'heavy' on my heart.

Eddie walked over to James, his great grandfather, shook him by the hand and then threw his arms round him. With tears in his eyes he said, "I would be gateful if you would give me a couple of minutes vicars, just a few. You see, James, I am Walter's grandson and therefore your great grandson and I have come to see you from a long way into the future. I am very grateful to have the opportunity of speaking with you at long last. I wish to warn you because I have discovered some very disturbing news about your father, John Pendleton, and also about you concerning your future. As you may know, your father took his own life by poisoning three months before you were born. I have his death certificate, but I have yours as well, and it disturbs me for alas on your death certificate I discovered to my horror you also took your own life by hanging whilst at work on 2 January 1905. I have written an earlier post about this tragedy. I cannot do anything about John, except to pray for him, but I implore you when the time comes please reconsider your actions and please do not do it - I dearly hope I can alter the course of history on this matter - there must be another way out of whatever caused you to do that, James! We all love you! I certainly have grown to love you through my researches - I feel I know you very well, and surely no matter what may occur in your life and however depressed or upset you may become, there is another way other than what you did. I have found your house in my home town, I found your unmarked grave and I found the factory where you died. I first discovered the factory where you worked as manager on my way to work whilst driving my ambulance. My time travelling is not nearly as precise as Geraldine's because I arrived at the scene 102 years 3 months late - there was nothing left of you to save. I had hoped to prevent the incident altogether, but here am I 14 years too early this time and at least I can do something for you now to give you some hope to help you overcome what is to come. In the distant future, in my time, we have already had a little service at your graveside to pray for you and your father, plus the priest at the local Catholic church has already offered a mass for you both. I made a little cross for your grave as well and had a brass plaque made for you.
Today is Easter Sunday and this is highly appropriate because I pray that God will comfort you and guide you throughout your life with Elizabeth. Please put your trust in Him, open your heart to Him and ask Him into your life. He will come in only if you invite Him into your heart, but when He does, and if things get tough in your life ask Him to help you! It may not seem as though He is actually doing anything, with little apparent difference in your life, but I promise you He WILL move things around for you, He really will - if, and only if you really ask Him to from the deepest recess of your heart. It is Easter and remember, Jesus died for us all because He loves us. He loves you too, and wants to help you, and if there is anyone else out there feeling low and depressed He loves you too! But He didn't just die for you, He rose again so we can rise again too into eternal glory later and for now to help us rise from all that troubles us in this world. Please vicars, please pray for him and for all who are depressed and upset, especially for James in 1905 and John in 1847."
James strode forward and shook Eddie's hand saying. "I was very touched by that, Eddie, how very kind. I will always remember that!" Walter, Cyril and Sarah also came over and gave him a hug.
Sarah, his future grandmother later taught him a lovely little poem about prayer which he thought was highly relevant - he will never forget it:
I often say my prayers, but do I ever pray?
Do the words upon my lips mean everything they say?
I might as well bow down and worship gods of stone
Than pray before my living God just prayers of words alone!
Everyone started crying and they all came up to Eddie and gave him a cuddle, one by one. All 767 Elizabeths came and gave him a hug and he will not mind me telling you that he held on to one or two of them for a little longer than he should have. It all took ages but this time the vicars were not upset.
Eddie noticed three people in the front row smiling at him, two ladies and a gentleman. They walked slowly towards him and he recognised them at once. The ladies were very attractive - one was undecided as to whether she wanted to sniffle or smile, for Janine was so overcome by the proceedings she was quite incapable of making up her mind. The other younger lady was a bit shy but such a beauty with long dark hair and she wore red leather boots and a beautiful white dress - the gent, C. Michael Cox, was there to look after them and he carried a Donald Duck masot. They all had come from bloggyland, far far away. They threw their arms round each other and the lady wearing the red leather boots opened her arms and invited Eddie to kiss her cheek. As he did so he went weak at the knees and time stopped dead for him and his world ceased for almost an eternity as his senses were dulled completely - he was aware of nothing else but that glorious occasion. "Mr Eddie, you have Cherry lipstick on your cheek!", she said with a gentle voice and an affectionate smile, waking him from his eternal ecstasy, her feet within those red boots clearly pointing straight towards him.
He replied, "I do not care, I never want to wash it off, I want it to be there for ever!"
The vicars said a powerful prayer for John and James and everyone said, "Amen".
A little voice repeated, "Amen!" and something small and blue flew out of Eddie's pocket and materialised on top of his head. It was Mickey, the budgie, who said, "Hello Eddie Boy! Hello everyone! Whose a pretty boy?"
He flew round and round the church, making loud ambulance siren noises as he went, and started introducing himself to all the Elizabeths one by one.
"Well, well, well", said the vicar, "I have changed my opinion of you. Eddie Bluelights, my man. Perhaps you are not a bumble bee after all. But please take off that awful yellow jacket - the green uniform I can just about stand.
Another gent appeared near the front row wearing a smart suit and shirt and striped tie, looking immaculate. "Good on yer sports -good day, poms, I'm 'ere from Melbourne, Australia and I've chosen this event for my next lesson in photography."
It was David of Authorblog - he continued . . . "I've brought all 687 followers (sorry 688) and they are outside! Can they come in? That window looks very interesting! I could take the shot from this angle but if I do the light would be wrong! If I switch to a telephoto lense and take it form over there, then that would be much better and . . . . . . . . . . "
The vicar interrupted, "It's only a church, not a Cathedral? Where are you going to put all 688 (sorry 689)? As for the photgraphs, do it silently - I have a wedding ceremony which has barely started as yet - can I get on with it please?
James from Liverpool was a bit overcome by Eddie's news and all the emotion but soon regained his composure and looked at his new Elizabeth, anxious to learn why he had not seen her living at 21 Danby Street, the same house where he lived at flat no 2. He remarked he could hardly miss such a beauty living under the same roof. He must have seen her somewhere else he thought, or maybe in his dreams.
“Just moved in this week with my flat mate Alice Scott who is here today as my witness to the wedding, there she is over there, see, 'Coooie!' I live at flat no 4 across the hall to you! Saw your photograph on the mantelpiece in the lounge and said to myself 'that's the man for me'. I expect the vicar thinks we’ve been living in sin!”
“No such luck”, remarked James giving her a wink, but give me a few minutes!”
"Oh you are a naughty boy James!”
Said Geraldine, "Elizabeth Evans. I have observed your behaviour and your chemistry towards this man but have I your confirmation that you like this James Pendleton with whom I have introduced you? Is he your Mr Right, the right James Pendleton for you?"
"Not arrf!” said Elizabeth Thomas, waving her birth certificate. "He looks just like George Clooney!"
"George who?”, enquired the whole company, except one man with failing ears who misheard and said,
"Ah yes George Pendleton the Miller, father of John and grandfather of James here, I knew him well - I am Joseph Pendleton from Runcorn and am related to him along with Mary Ann Pendleton and a lot of other Pendletons. George lived at . . . . . . . . . . . . . and, his wife was Ann Prince I think, or was she Ann Wallace, perhaps not? . . . . . . . and his children were John Pendleton and Joseph Pendleton and. . . . . . . several others . . and his parents were . . . . . and his cousins were . . . . .. I can go back 23 generations !" I can recite it all from memory like they did in Roots."
"Oh shut that idiot up! No-one will ever want to hear all that nonsense!"
"No! No! No! Do not shut up!”, screamed Geraldine, "that is all vital information for the Pendleton Family Tree. I must give it to Eddie Bluelights. My mission is to please him and I must have this information. Old man please say that again and write it all down quickly - quiet you lot - let the man speak, say it again!", implored Geraldine.
“What did you say! I can’t hear you, speak up”, said the old man.
"Ahhhhhhh! say it quickly all about George Pendleton and his family and mother and father, I can't stay any longer, my husband is pulling me back, he wants a second helping and a fried egg for his tea! I must be away! Eddie will look after things now!" Flash!
As soon as had vanished, hopefully for the last time, the recovering vicar of Congleton, and the vicar of St Benedicts both felt much better and enquired of Elizabeth, “Can you prove your genealogy beyond doubt? Because I have a note that your father could be Joseph Pendleton and not Joseph Evans. Please explain! What is your genealogy, precisely? Is there any chance you could be a Pendleton after all?”
"What!", exclaimed the whole chorus, "A Pendleton marrying a Pendleton!"
"Incest! Incest!” exclaimed the self righteous woman again, wearing a smile in the middle row.” Goody, goody, I have a vivacious appetite for a scandal".
“I say again!” said the vicar, “explain your genealogy.”
“I can’t see why you would have a note with my father as Joseph Pendleton”, said Elizabeth. ”His name was Joseph Evans and he was a cattle dealer but he also worked on the railways when my sister, Mary, and I were little and when he married my mum. I am Elizabeth Evans b 1857 in W Derby. My dad was Joseph Evans b 1831 and my mum was Ann Price b 1833 and they married in Hesketh Parish Church, near Manchester on 1 June 1856. I have a younger sister called Mary b 1859 who was a stewardess on passenger steamships from Liverpool, and my grandfather was John Evans, a farmer, and his dad was Thomas Evans b 1777. I have all the certificates to prove it.”
“Impeccable! That is good enough for me – obviously yet another error this Pendleton name on my note – disregard it!! I've had enough today!" exclaimed the vicar.
Mickey was cruising round the church now and remarked it was really great for aerobatics. He looped the loop and did victory rolls in fine stile and liked everyone so much he was not inclined to dive bomb anyone, as he had done in previous stories.
"Look, Mickey, there's grandma as a young lady. Fly over and have a chat with her and ask her the time, and look there's my grandfather, Walter. Tell him I'll see him later with Cyril for a chat! I was not alive for long before he died so I didn't get to know him at all but I knew grandma really well, she lived until she was 92.
The vicar of Congleton remarked, Well, we have two correct James Pendletons and two correct Elizabeths, one for my Congleton church and one for your St Benedicts in Liverpool. Problem is how to get them there, with the ushers and you of course Rev Harding. As for the others I say go the lot of you for you are nothing to do with either service, you all are superfluous! Registrar, be sure this time to enter the correct details on the wedding certificate for Elizabeth's father - make no mistakes or that awful woman will buzz us again - I never wish to see her again!"

All the other Elizabeths were sobbing and weeping by now at their disappointment in love. “We shall have to find ourselves a new James to court from elsewhere”, they cried, blowing their noses in unison.

The records officer, who had remained quiet at the ceremony to ensure that no further mistakes were made, although he had a minuscule frame he had a stout and warm heart for he took pity and comforted the Elizabeths by saying, “Now, we all realise there are a lot of very disappointed Elizabeths here and as a consolation prize to you all I have used my influence and brought with me, and they await outside, the entire remaining stock of Lancashire and Cheshire James Pendletons, aged 30 – 45 from whom you may choose a partner for your life if you wish, and we invite them to enter to meet you all. By a remarkable coincidence there are also 767 of them, one for each lady! Organist, please play them in and will the ushers please introduce every James to every Elizabeth, every Elizabeth to every James.

Mingle and be seated – it should take only 3 or 4 hours for the entire exercise."

The vicars both glared at this new delay.
(To be continued - concluding Episode 5)

Mickey, the Love-Sick Budgie

By popular demand I am pleased to post the sequel to Mickey, the Celibate Budgie, since this little chap seems to have captured a fair number of hearts, mainly from the ladies - come on lads, where are your hearts? You've got them too you know!

I will not reiterate the sheer academic genius of this extraordinary little budgie, only to underline his vast repertoire and understanding of the English Language at the expense of great personal sacrifice, dealt with in detail in his first story.

Towards his autumn years we detected far less zeal in his behaviour; he became much quieter and far less eager to talk to us and learn new words. Yes, he still 'clouted' his plastic bird from time to time and attacked his cuttlefish and mirror like an out-of-control maniac sometimes, but generally he seemed far from happy.

Our concern grew regarding his depression so one day I attempted to cheer him up. I recalled a story of 'Whitey', my girl cousin and I visiting our local zoo while she was staying with us and Grandma. Whitey wore an elaborate silver bracelet belonging to her mother. We visited the bird house and were attracted by a large former sea-faring red parrot with a remarkable repertoire, but extremely verbose in undesirable swear word adjectives. He was tethered with a chain around one leg and perched in the open so he had some free movement. Suddenly, with utmost speed, whilst uttering, "Silver, silver, silver!", he launched himself at Whitey's hand, grabbing her silver bracelet in his beak, laughing so loudly and causing everyone to look round. He rolled the bracelet in his beak into a silver ball, completely ruining it, and would not let it go in spite of our serious attempts to retrieve it. Our battle was lost and so was the bacelet, lost for ever. Alarmed and terrified of what her mother might do concerning the disappearance of the bracelet Whitey decided her best option was simply to tell her mother she had mislaid it somewhere instead of it being eaten by a parrot. A few weeks later when she had returned home we sent her a photograph of that parrot, minus the silver ball, adding the caption, 'Telecarb Retae'. It sounds quite a plausible Latin type name for a parrot, doesn't it? However, reading backwards it reads 'Bracelet Eater'. Her mother never 'cottoned on' and neither did Whitey, without the 'enigma' machine to crack the code. Mickey thought this story very funny and nodded his head violently whilst sqwalking for a couple of minutes.

However his mirth did not last long. I decided to have it out with him once and for all. I called him over and he flew onto my outstretched finger. I asked him what was the matter and he became sheepish and embarrassed.

Perched on my finger he proceeded to tell me he was a love-sick bird. He was regretting his living a life of celibacy and longed for some female company. Further, he knew he was way past his prime and therefore would have a great problem attracting a hen even if he had the chance. He was 'sweet sixty five' and never been kissed and thought he might be a candidate for the Guinness Book of Records. He imagined what it would be like to 'bill and coo' like other normal budgies. Also he was worried he would be at a loss to know what to say and what to do to develop any meaningful relationship. After some thought I said I would have a word with our local pet shop owner and explain the situation. I must stress he was not the infamous pet shop owner from Bolton or Ipswich of Python Parrot Sketch notoriety. The man I knew was honest and perhaps he might agree for Mickey to visit some hens in a large cage in the shop for a while. It was quickly agreed and Mickey was so excited he recited all his favourite sayings at the top of his voice, with a new spring in his step.

A day before his little holiday he got really nervous about what he should do when actually meeting an attractive member of the opposite sex and how he could subtly get the message of his honourable intentions across to her. After all he had missed so much of life's experiences. I thought it time to lay it on the line for him to get a firm grasp of the 'art of flirting' so natural and essential in our world. I found my little book entitled, "How to tell if a girl fancies you" which I thought would do nicely to explain acceptable approaches to young ladies. Yes, it would have to be modified somewhat for the 'birds of the air' but perhaps it might help him.

"OK! Mickey, rule number one - Smarten up, have a good preen and when you see a hen you like keep your mouth firmly shut. At this stage it's not about what you say, it's about body language and chemistry. It's 90% unspoken attraction and just 10% what you say - if she likes the 90% it does not matter at this stage what you say, within reason, for the remaining 10%. If she does not find you attractive you can say what you like for as long as you like and you will be banging your head against a brick wall. Also, she has to be unattached and actually in the market for a suitor - if not she will reject your advances as unwanted. Don't make a nuisance of yourself.

Rule number two - At your age even if you like the look of a young bird don't waste your time - they want the fast talking, handsome and virile young male birds and therefore you do not stand a chance. Pick someone older who might be a widow or a spinster for some reason. They are rarer but you might still find a good looking hen out there who might actually be looking for a suitor. You may be just what she wants. You never know.

Rule number three - Make eye contact first, but careful, do not stare - it might put her off. Remember our eyes are the windows of our souls! Very important! When your eyes meet smile at her. If she smiles back you should be encouraged. If she looks away and then looks back and smiles again, you can be sure she likes you. Smile back at her to signal you like her. If she does the equivalent in budgie of flicking her hair and grooming herself to look smart, then she is keen. If you are a bit thick and cannot recognise her positive signals and she likes you then she will take the initiative. She will walk past you and fly or walk close to you for any reason she can invent so she can just to catch your attention. She will occasionally look you in the eye and smile at you. (Not sure how to recognise a smile in the budgie world though).

Rule number four - If when you are quite close you notice her feet pointing towards you then she definitely fancies you. If they are pointing elsewhere she doesn't find you attractive and is prepared for a quick get away.

Rule number five - Assuming she likes you it is time for you to pluck up courage to walk up to her, keep eye contact without staring obviously, look from one eye to the other and introduce yourself, something like, "Hello, my name is Mickey".

Now stop right there! She is an older bird and will be very familiar with all those corny and over-used chat up lines young birds will use like, 'Where have I been all your life?' or 'Your place or mine baby?'

Horrible! You have to be more refined for older ladies, something like, 'Hello, my name is Mickey. I hope you don't think I'm being forward but I would love a bit of company. I would be honoured if you would join me for a chat and share my millet and cuttlefish."

Stop! Wait for a reply. If she likes you she will accept - if not she will tell you to 'shove off'.

Rule number six - If she responds positively to your verbal overtures, keep it up, talk to her and listen to what she is saying and converse with her freely and naturally, all the time gazing into her eyes. If her pupils dilate she is beginning to really like you. You will be sending the same unconscious signals to her during this time. If she looks at your eyes then looks down to your beak and then back to your eyes she wants you to kiss her. Don't disappoint her, do it, but be a gentleman and don't get too enthusiastic too soon. Now that's enough I think or you will get confused. The rest is up to you."
With those ground rules in play and a game plan in his mind, Mickey was taken to the pet shop and introduced into the cage with hens. Nothing obvious happened for a while but Mickey seemed to pluck up courage and concentrate on one of the ladies. I did not want to embarrass him so I left him alone and went home. Next day I had a call from the pet shop owner to say Mickey was causing such a commotion that he thought I should collect him and take him home.
When I got to the pet shop I noticed feathers all over the floor and Mickey was sitting alone on one side of the cage while the hens were nattering away to each other.

When we got home my crest fallen Mickey was sulking in the corner of his cage. He said, "Women! why did I want to bother with them? They all ganged up against me and really clipped my wings - did you see all my feathers in the cage?"

Later told me what had occurred. Trust him to choose a young lady who from his description of her behaviour I can liken only to Miss Elizabeth Bennet from that marvellous book, Pride and Prejudice. Lady Catherine de Burg was quite correct in her description of Miss Bennet being a 'head strong young lady'. This bird promptly rejected all 'Mr Darcy's' advances, remarking that Mickey reminded her of a much older and uglier version of Mr Collins, whom she had rejected outright in the book. Mickey quickly tired of Miss Bennet's insistence of embarking on an intellectual sparring match to Elizabethan music, without even the sexual overtones of the original book, particularly after she informed him in no uncertain terms that nothing on this earth would induce her to marry him even if he was the last budgie on earth.

With that bombshell in his pipe which was smoking profusely he turned his attention to a nice yellow hen, an older bird, who seemed at first to respond nicely to his initial courtship overtures - his eye contact and body language seemed to work well up to a point, but he floundered dramatically when he opened his mouth thus ruining all his hard preparatory work. He boldly approached her to strike up conversation and it all seemed to go wrong.

"What did you say to her?", I enquired.

Mickey replied, "I went up to her boldly and said, "Who's a pretty, pretty, pretty boy then?"

"Oh Mickey you might have known that saying things like that would not exactly 'ring her chimes'. She wanted to hear something much more romantic like, 'What a lovely smile you have, I noticed you straight away when I entered the cage', or 'Now we are alone together I must say you have such lovely eyes; I am sorry if I appear to be staring a little too much but I find you so attractive I cannot help it'. That's what all women like to hear - they want to be flattered and not have some idiot coming over to them and flouting himself as God's gift to every budgie hen walking planet Earth. Did you talk to her in English or Budgie?"

"Budgie!" was the reply, "I took great care as well to do a literal translation."
"What did she say?"
"She said I was a self opinionated old fart who was old enough to be her father and she thought me an extremely arrogant male chauvinist pig!" Further she went on to say I was no Brad Pitt of the budgie world either. My word, didn't she slap my face?"

"The next one I liked was even older but still quite nice but I messed that one up as well."
"What did you say to her, then?" "I recited, "Georgie Porgy kissed the girls and made them cry!"

She looked at me very surprised and said, "Are you alright? You must be bonkers if you think that will 'turn my lights on'. I've heard better chat up lines in a mortuary! You certainly could not charm me out of a burning cage!"

The next hen Mickie tried he messed up as well. He asked her if she preferred Bach or Mozart to which she turned to him chewing a face full of millet, saying, "What mate! what a square, who let you in, grandad? I'm into 'punk' myself. Sling yer hook!"

His final attempt was with an ageing hen who had seen his miserable attempts at wooing the ladies. She said, chuckling to herself, "It's no good looking at me with those Mooney eyes, ducky. My candle went out years ago - never to be rekindled! You'd have to be superbird to relight them and you're not - sorry! You can give me a peck if you want, but it won't do anything to get my fire lit!"

Mickey realised he had blown it completely with all the hens and decided never to repeat the experience again. He resolved himself to bachelorhood, a state in which he accepted he would stay for the remainder of his life. He lived a couple of years more, no doubt often wondering how things might have been had he made a conquest, yet he became quite philosophical about the matter.

He became depressed again just before he died - one day he fell off his perch and was lost to the world for ever. Did he fall or did he jump, we often wonder?

Mickey the Celibate Budgie

Here's a 'dead ringer' for Mickey, our pet budgerigar of the late 1950s. This little chap here is not a descendant of Mickey - his lineage died out when he fell off his perch at the grand old age of 8, being with 'no issue', as the solicitors have it. I am not sure what multiplication factor should be applied to equate a budgie's age to us humans, but Mickey must have lived to a ripe old age. Sadly we took no photographs of him so the world has been deprived of any permanent record of his existence - my Kodak Brownie box camera was quite unequal to the task of capturing him mid flight and would have resulted in an unintelligible black and white blur of something wildly energetic. Dad bought him when he was very young and Mickey took to us like a duck to water. The relationship was assisted enormously when, after a few days, Mickey became entangled in some knitting wool. Immediately Dad picked him up and placed him in the palm of his hand, a very dangerous place for a bird, and proceeded to untie him. Completely unaware of any potential danger in which his trust had led him, he realised at once he had been rescued. From that moment he allowed us to pick him up at will, put him in our pockets, tickle his tummy and stroke his feathers. He was absolutely fearless and became totally implanted on us - he thought my Dad was his Mummy, I am sure.

His maiden flight was something to behold. He looked across the room towards us all, holding out outstretched fingers and shouting words of encouragement to him. We could see he was summoning up courage for take off and to "Come on Mickey Boy!" and "You can Do it!" he launched himself into the air and flew across to us. However, he missed his chosen landing target - my hand - took a neat 90% sharp right turn and made an emergency landing on the table, just missing a bowl of custard and almost upsetting a vase of flowers, eventually skidding to a halt. Not wishing to be beaten by his initial 'pilot error' he took off again and this time proceeded to land flawlessly, celebrating with wild abandon by bobbing up and down at ninety to the dozen whilst pecking my glasses to a series of squawks and chatters, previously unheard. Obviously he was very pleased with himself, saying over and over again, "Who's a clever boy?" "Mickey! Mickey! Mickey!"

He was not lucky in matters of love - neither did he acquire the art of chatting up and, as they say, 'pulling' the birds. He must have been a handsome lad and could have charmed any bird out of the trees I am sure. However he never met a single hen in his youth. He was not unsociable - the fault was entirely ours, since we never thought of introducing him to a nice little hen bird so he could enjoy the delights of courtship and parenthood. He sometimes wondered what it would be like to fall in love but since there were no attractive hens in sight he did not complain but proceeded in his frustrations to belt the living daylights out of his plastic toy bird, squawking profusely with each violent attack. His mirror fared not much better since it too was the object of his occasional belligerent behaviour.

This enforced celibacy persuaded him to make his mark in life in a totally different way. He decided that he would have to forgo the pleasures of the physical world and instead concentrate on a life of learning, experimentation an imitation. He thought to himself, a hen bird around him constantly plus family duties would hamper any real impact he may make in this world. After all, just look what the great composers might have achieved without such domestic distractions as "Your food's on the table, come and get it or it will be thrown in the bin", or "Come and do the drying up, dear". Such interruptions might have ruined a whole concerto by killing stone dead sheer moments of genius. Without these constant unwanted interruptions Schubert may have completed his Unfinished Symphony, Mozart his Requiem Mass and Beethoven may have written a couple more symphonies at least. As for Shakespeare, well one can only imagine!

With this new found objective in life of total celibacy he became very inquisitive regarding every sound he heard - right from the start. He could have been the equivalent of a BBC sound engineer since he was fascinated with experiments in echo technology. He stuck his head down the brass central light fitting, so far on many occasions he nearly fell in, and analysing the echos he received back when he talked or chattered into it.

It was here he stayed when we played his favourite music, joining in the brass section with a mature understanding of pitch, rhythm and phrasing - he could have been a great conductor had he been human. He was not against any classical composer, yet liked some more than others. His preference was Bach because of the bouncing rhythm. He danced in perfect time to the Brandenburg Concertos - he loved them. He liked also Gilbert and Sullivan operettas, prefering the rarer Princess Ida to more popular, Mikado and Iolanthe. However grand opera was not to his taste since, more often than not, he thought principal sopranos sounded like dying ducks in thunder storms. On Sundays he bathed in his swimming pool attachment to his cage to Handel's Water Music - which he liked very much. On several ocassions he did wander into popular music, liking the Beetles, but hating the Rolling Stones. You might say he was a 'mod' and not a 'rocker'!

He was fascinated with his name and responded readily to it by flying across the room performing all manner of airborne acrobatics to rival even the red arrows. He would land on our finger, our head or spectacles whilst conversing in fluent and verbose 'budgie' language, nodding his head so violently that we often expressed concern he may injure himself.

He learned English at a prodigious rate of knots and mastered, "Mickey Boy", in a matter of days followed by "Auntie Gertie" over the next two. We told him right from the start, our English Language is rich in many descriptive adjectives and he agreed never to resort to using swear words - these were reserved for the likes of his larger cousins of sea-faring fame.

We discerned very early he was far more intellectually able than usual and he quickly tired of 'one' and 'two worders'. We could see he was highly intelligent and wanted to stretch his mind - he wanted meat not milk. We proceeded to teach him:

Gorgie Porgie pudding and pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry.
When the boys came out to play,
Gorgie Porgie flew away.
Within three weeks he got the first two lines perfectly, after a trial run of him bobbing up and down at breakneck speed saying, "Gorgie Porgie Porgie Porgie!" With his technique corrected he perched on our hand close to our mouth and pecked us on the nose each time he wanted to learn a word.

The next two lines took over 3 years to learn and sometimes he got a few words wrong but very often he said it all perfectly and rewarded himself by clouting his new plastic bird, his forth since he had by now completely destroyed the first three.

This feat of learning in the budgie world clearly rivalled a human being reciting the whole Koran non-stop. Quite an achievement for a little bird.
One day we though we'd play a little trick on Mickey - I entered the room wearing my Uncle Ted's funny false nose and eyes. Mickey went absolutely bananas. Fearlessly he 'buzzed' the intruder and proceeded to dive bomb him just like the Stukas did in WW2 in Europe. I said, "It's me! It's me!" He took no notice and 'straffed' me again and again. I took off the offending equipment at once and placed it on the table but he made a beeline for it and proceeded to attack it with gusto so violently that eventually he threw it on the floor and stamped on it over and over again. Thinking it was dead he seized his moment for glory, circled the room three times uttering a shrieking battery of budgie obscenities, did a figure of eight, looped the loop and finished with a victory roll with such precision any spitfire pilot would gladly die to equal. Then he flew across to me and repeatedly pecked my nose whilst reprimanding me severely with, "Who's a naughty, naughty, naughty boy?" We were so impressed from that day he was promoted in the household to 'watch bird' just in case we had more unwanted intruders.
Grandma (bless her) visited us from the North of England. She was 90 and could recite in its entirety, "The Lay Of The Last Minstrel" by Sir Walter Scott. Quite a feat for an old lady but when she committed it to memory, it was laid down on very good grey matter. More recent events were much more of a problem for her to remember - in fact she was beginning to lose her mental agility for new things particularly. She enquired frequently, "What's the time?" - something many elderly people do. Mickey quickly learned that question and he and Grandma spent hours asking each other what they thought was the time. Grandma was fascinated with Mickey. She said, "That bird said, 'Auntie Gertie' and just asked me 'What's the time?' Isn't it clever? Listen it just said, 'Hello Mickey' ."

A girl cousin was staying with us also and she often wore a white coat. Grandma could not remember her name and called her 'Whitey' because of the coat. Whitey proceeded to tell Grandma that the bird was indeed very clever and came from Australia where they all talked to each other in English. "Fancy that! All talking to each other!" "Yes", said Whitey, "as soon as they hatch from their shell they say hello to each other". "Fancy that!" Wasn't she a naughty girl, that Whitey - teasing Grandma like that, indeed?

For his final year Mickey seemed to lose all desire to learn new phrases. In fact he talked less and less and seemed to be melancholy for most of the time. Was he, we wondered, regretting his decision not to embark on a meaningful relationship with a beautiful hen? Perhaps! For most of us it is the very dangerous time of thinking about a second flush of life while we can still manage to do so, but for him there was not even a first flush - poor chap!

Or could it be he was ruminating over the big question one always has in one's winter years, "Is this all there is to life or is there a new life when we depart this world?"

We never discovered just what his thoughts were because one morning we found him asleep for ever on the floor of his cage.

We had a little funeral for him and committed his body to the Earth but made a serious error in our understanding of burial procedure, where Mickie should have been buried 4ft down not 6 inches. Next day Dad informed us a cat had dug him up and eaten him. This was very sad but typical of Mickey's spirit of usefulness, for even in death he was willing to be a recycled budgie into the great Universal scheme of things. I often wonder it would be so nice if when I get to the great blue yonder if my little Mickey might land on my shoulder and say, "Hello, Eddie Boy!"

I am no great fan of Monty Python but I do like the Parrot Sketch of a larger cousin of Mickey, the Norwegian Blue. It is well worth another look. Had Mickey seen it he would certainly have laughed his beak off.

Finally, I think Mickey would have appreciated this excellent video of "Chick-fi-A" which appears on my good friend Janine's recent post. She lives across the pond and her blog site is called, Sniffles and Smiles. They modified a good song by the Beetles and it certainly made me laugh as well. Above this there is an excellent post about marriage which is well worth reading when it's time for serious thought again.

A sequel to this story can be seen on my post, Mickey, the Love-Sick Budgie.