Thursday, January 18, 2018

January 18. Day 18. A hard day's work

Rest break at South Bank

They say hard work never killed anyone. Nonsense. I have proof, although not my hard work obviously. It goes like this. Yesterday some lovely men cleaned all the glass around my home. Glass panels on the deck, glass panels down the outdoor steps and around the whole rear garden. There's glass all around the pool. Put it this way, the saying about not throwing stones in glass houses could apply to me. The glass was really dirty. Thanks to the hard work of the window cleaners it is now sparkly clean. And thanks to that hard work a lorikeet is now dead. It smacked into a glass panel. It is no more. It has ceased to be. It's shuffled off this mortal coil, kicked the bucket, pushing up the daisies and everything else Monty Python had to say about dead birds. Fortunately, I wasn't home and didn't have to deal with the poor things remains. I was at South Bank looking at very much alive birds when I received the photo from the Person Formally Known as Drama Teen. "Is it dead?" I asked. "Just pinin' for the fjords," he said. Good work.

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