Eggs and Bloomers

Andy informed me this morning that a duckling was brought into the surgery yesterday.

'It was very cute,' he said.

I waited for him to say the next obvious thing for a Home Farmer, which was 'And I'm bringing it home to expand our poultry livestock flock.'

But he didn't. Instead, he said 'One of the nurses is going to raise it.'

Ah well. I am sure there will be more ducks in the future.

So yesterday I heard a bit of squawking coming from Cluckinghen Palace and I thought, 'Pantomime rehearsals are well under way,' like you do when you are Mum to four chickens. Mrs Pumphrey had been parading around since dawn in her flouncy costume and singing 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow' only I think she's been a bit ambitious with her choice of key. However, I am pleased to report that she has teased her previously curly and bouffant wig into two plaits, far more suitable for the part of Dorothy.

I was very busy writing and editing yesterday, and then Vera over at Labartere phoned and we shared 'phew-what-a-scorcher' stories vis a vis our current heatwaves. The main difference appeared to be that Vera had the added luxury of bare chested builder men decorating her garden as they worked on their barn renovation, and I had a handful of droopy lupins. Vera reported a storm cloud gathering over the Pyrenees, so fingers crossed for a spot of rain by the weekend. After she'd gone I thought, I haven't collected eggs today, so popped into the garden with my egg basket.

And this is what I found - COR BLIMEY!

'Mrs Pumphrey,' I said. 'What a whopper!'
'I know, 'she said, as we admired her 30th June 2009 offering. 'It startled me too. I was clicking my ruby slippers together and it just popped out.'

I was very impressed that anything that size could 'just pop' out of anywhere other than an ostrich maybe. (In case you haven't guessed, Mrs Pumphrey's egg is in the centre - 106 grammes! The others are from Mrs Miggins and and Mrs Poo - 67 grammes each, just to put the whole thing into eye-watering perspective!)

'And are you okay?' I asked, because after the debacle of Mrs Miggins' saggy bottom, I didn't fancy having to go through the whole rigamarole of latex glove, shut your eyes, upsadaisy and hope for the best again with Pumphrey.

'Oh yes,' said Pumphrey. 'I'm fine. I make a point of doing pelvic floor exercise every day.'
'I'm glad to hear it,' I said.
'My only concern is what if it happens in the middle of a pantomime performance?' said Pumphrey. 'I mean, I can't be dropping whoppers like that in the middle of the Yellow Brick Road, can I? It's not exactly subtle. I couldn't get away with giving it a sly kick under a Munchkin, could I?'
'You could always go before you get onto the stage,' I suggest.
'But what if the urge isn't upon me?' said Pumphrey.

I give the dilemma some consideration.
'Bloomers,' I decide.'That's what you need. A pair of bloomers with a pouch. A bit like manly Y-fronts only back to front.'
'And they would go quite well with my costume, wouldn't they?' said Pumphrey. 'Dorothy wore bloomers, didn't she? Ones with lace and ribbons.'

Well, I couldn't say for certain that she did, but I agreed nonetheless because Mrs Pumphrey was clearly taken with the whole solution to her problem.

'I'll make you a pair of bloomers with extra space at the back,' I say.

'Thank you,' says Mrs Pumphrey. 'And then they could double up as scales.'
'What do you mean?' I said, knowing already that I would regret the answer.
'For the pies,' said Pumphrey. 'You know, in the song.'

And she sings...

'....Somewhere, over the Rainbow, weigh a pie....'