Two are as one, but not in a bad way
THERE comes a point in any long-term relationship when the two parts become one; when you know in advance what the other is going to say, for example, or finish each other’s sentences.
At about the same time you sometimes find that you start to dress in a similar way. I should add straight away that I don’t mean that I wear Small But Fierce of Ipswich’s clothes (though the idea isn’t totally without appeal, though we’ll leave that one there) nor does she wear mine.
But in this unisex world of trousers and jumpers it came to pass that we both appeared in the kitchen one morning dressed from head to toe in black; trews, jumper, shoes, socks, the lot.
We looked like a couple of mime artists. So we spent a happy minute or two trying to get out of a glass box, fighting a gale-force wind, opening doors and so on. It kept us amused for a bit but to be honest you wouldn’t have paid money to see it.
That has pretty much been the highlight of the week, bar a fleeting ‘just passing through’ visit from the Ginger Ninja, who was on his way to Belgium. There’s a bit of a Euro flavour to our lifestyle, wouldn’t you say, what with mime and Belgium. Shame they’re the dullest bits of Europe but there you are.
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The only other thing that comes to mind is that the chickens have been ordered.
SBF has put her tiny foot down and decided that she will surrender the garden to poultry and that is that.
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Four birds have been ordered. Now if you know anything about chickens you will know that there is a fantastic selection of birdage to select from. You have the Poland Blue, with her magnificent head-dress, the fluffy little Silkies White, Orpingtons, Pekins and a splendid little chicken that appears to be wearing trousers.
So which are we getting? None of the above. We are gathering up four survivors from a battery chicken farm, some poor old birds who will arrive short of feathers and with that glazed-over look that football fans acquire after watching a goalless draw on a cold winter afternoon.
All very worthy, but a bit dull, visually. The good news for the chickens is that they already have names; well, two do at least. SBF has decided that Florence and Daisy will be suitable monickers for her hens and has given the Ginger Ninja and I the responsibility of selecting names for the other two.
So far I have not had much luck. Apparently Sunday Lunch is not an appropriate name for a chicken. The GN’s world revolves around music but he might have a problem getting Metallica past SBF, but he’ll probably have a go. What about Paxo?