Take these broken wings and learn to fly*

Significant trauma today. Not, for once, related to work either. More in relation to dead bodies. Dead feathery bodies.

When we moved here in December 2007, the first thing to go was the ugly, ugly fireplace and surround. It was a charming combination of terracotta tiles on the hearth and shiny green tiles around the tackiest brass fireplace. So we demolished it and picked up a cute cast iron one in the January sales at B&Q. Many, MANY, sagas later we have a slate hearth and it’s all ready for the chimney to be swept and the surround to be fixed in.

You can see what’s coming, can’t you? I phoned a chimney sweep who said he’d come today, at 2pm. He’d sweep the chimney and have a look at the surround to see if he could fit it for us. I moved the surround out the way (dropped it on the coffee table in the process, shhh!) and started pulling out the newspaper and towels that we’d stuffed up there approximately a billion years ago. I’d pulled out the last towel, when I noticed something else. Something grey and fluffy (for a second, it looked like grey hair. For a nanosecond, I thought there was a human head in the chimney), I went to remove the grey fluffy thing, when I saw it had feet. Little pointy birdy feet. I’m ashamed to say this is where my investigative reporting talents deserted me and I fled the scene.

*Pause while I go to answer the door to the heroic chimney sweep chap*

Heh. There are some advantages to being a girl. The main one being that you can answer the door to a chimney sweep by saying “Hi! Come in! How are you with dead birds? CostheresadeadbirdinthechimneyIthinkatleastIsawitsfeetandthenranaway” and they just roll their eyes in a “Women! Tsk!” kind of way and kindly remove the dead bird whilst you make them a cup of tea. He was trying to show me it though and telling me how it was “Quite dry. Probably been there for a year or so.”

Ick. Perhaps this is the universe’s way of shaming me into completing DIY projects in a more timely fashion?

*Although the title comes from “Blackbird” by The Beatles, the bird in question was a pigeon.


One response to “Take these broken wings and learn to fly*

  1. Recognised the lyric immediately, one of the first pick-pieces I learned to play on the guitar.

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