Friday, 14 January 2011

Catalogue Queens

The hens have discovered catalogues. This since the postman redirected a copy of the Omlet catalogue to the back garden and the girls spent a very happy afternoon sitting on the garden bench and perusing the delights of various tonics and play things for chickens and bees. And rabbits and guinea pigs. And people.

'Why haven't we got these?' says Mrs Slocombe, pointing to the set of four egg cups shaped like Volkswagen camper vans.
'Because you aren't supposed to eat eggs,' I say.
'Can we have a set anyway?' says Mrs Slocombe. 'To grow mustard and cress in.'
'No,' I say.
'Spoilsport,' says Mrs S.
'And your point is?' I say.
'Did you know you can buy a special salve for massaging into our combs in the Winter to protect them from freezing, going brittle and snapping off?' sayd Mrs Miggins, snatching the catalogue from Mrs S because she's growing old and can gte away with such appalling manners.
'Yes,' I say. 'And I can get it cheaper in the supermarket. It's called Vaseline.'
'But this is SPECIAL stuff,' says Mrs Miggins. 'In a special pot.'
'I daresay,' I say. 'But Vaseline works just as well. Besides, you need neither of these products, not with your eclectic collection of hats.'
'This is true,' says Mrs Pumphrey, whose hat collection is twice as big and twice as eclectic as the other two's put together. 'When I feel my comb becoming brittle, I whip out my yellow angora beret, pop it on, and nothing is in danger of dropping off. And if it does, it lands in my hat so I can stick it back on again with Miracle Comb Glue.'
'And it looks so chic, too,' I say.
'It looks like you're balancing a frisbee on your head,' snorts Mrs Miggins.
'You're only jealous because you can't get away with wearing a beret,' says Mrs Pumphrey. 'Nor a fez. A fez is very eclectic.'
'What does 'eclectic' mean?' says Mrs Slocombe, who is now perusing the Damart catalogue.
'It means something that has been selected from a wide variety of sources, styles or ideas,' I say.
'Not a kind of fence you put up to keep the foxes out, then?' says Mrs Slocombe.
'No,' I say.

So now the hens have taken to sending off for catalogues from various companies. Well, there's not too much to do in these dark evenings, and flicking through a catalogue can be very diverting. Like window shopping but without having to go out into the rain. The nouveau Chippendale authentic 18th century magazine rack is full to bursting with such gems as 'Yachting Clobber', 'Flip Flops and Spangly Pants for the Over Fifties', 'Coats for Badgers', 'Cat Maps and Other Orienteering Gear,' and 'Complete Blancmange Moulds and Setting Agents.'

Luckily, the hens have yet to discover where I keep my debit card!

('That's what you think,' says Mrs Miggins.)

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