A Fowl Canard - The Duck stops here

Perry at the Priory

 

Saturday, August 07, 2004

Day 10

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I've had a postcard from Ethel the Duckling. At least, I'm pretty sure it's her. The writing is almost illegible but it's soggy and smells strongly of pond weed. I think it says she's having a great time swanning around in Cornwall with SJ, Laurie and Laurie's Mum*.

SJ and Laurie had offered to take me to Cornwall with them. I was very excited and had my WWII pigeon vest all dry cleaned and ready to go. However, Sandi veto'd the idea when she caught me on a very different kind of trip after snorting the algae in the Gent's and I ended up here.

Ethel also brags about having successfully lied about her age to get served in the pub next door. I'm torn between feeling outrage that those two are corrupting a minor and feeling envy that they aren't corrupting me.

Maybe I'm just feeling the stirrings of parental responsibility. Sandi read out an e-mail from Ethel in which she claimed to be my daughter. It's certainly possible. In the bad old days when I was high on bird seed and tequila worms I used to go off for days and have no memory of what I'd been doing.

Still, I really ought to remember something like that. It's a long waddle to Stockport where Greta (Ethel's Mum) lives - I should at least have had sore feet afterwards.



(*if you follow the link for Laurie's Mum, rest assured that the curious-sounding fowl was NOT modeled on me during one of my benders)

posted at 3:40 AM

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