8.30 am
Ha ha. I have green shoots on budgie grass tub this morning, Alan Titchmarch eat your heart out. (if you're thinking I've completely lost the plot, like The Husband does, read last Sunday's blog and all will become clear....sort of).
Also, as we may be adopting girl parrot this weekend, I need to get Monty's house looking spruce, coat of paint, few Laura Ashley scatter cushions along the perch, she'll be most impressed with his bachelor 'des res'. There is one snag though. He's no oil painting himself at the moment. At best of times, Monty isn't one of those vividly coloured birds that have exotic plumage like Amazon parrot or a cute little feathered headdress like Macaws. He is an African Grey which are well, strangely enough, grey. Under normal circumstances, however he does have a smart poppy red tail but he recently pulled it out and now has a rear end that looks like a baboon crossed with a plucked chicken. Also as he has no 'rudder,' he cannot steer very well and crashes when coming into land, so he won't be able to impress his prospective date with his aviation skills. So far the £400 spent on vet bills has not shed any light on problem other than it is a psychological, maybe to do with house move or boredom. Vet suggested that he may need a 'pet psychiatrist' to stop him plucking, he says it can be very effective. Apparently in America, a Jack Russell that underwent treatment a month ago has now quit smoking, booze and cocaine. Meanwhile, wonder if there's such a thing as a tail feather wig, with only three days to go, had better check on line....pronto.
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