An ominous start to the weekend.

Not actual size, nor bird.



Oh Chumlies, I tell you...I have aged ten years this morning. I'm still not right.
Observe.

I was up and about, I'd had coffee and a slice of wholemeal toast, I checked my mail, my blog, glanced through the papers. All was well with the world. After a while I wandered up stairs in a leisurely fashion, thinking about Fullers best bitter ale and how I was going to do a post on it. I stripped naked, scratched Puddy who lay on my bed in a ham induced coma, picked up my dressing gown and then...
A terrific smashing sound from downstairs, followed seconds later by another, then a lot of what I can only describe as muffled thumping and what I thought was a rough sort of weird voice.
'What the fuck?' I said, in a lady like manner.
Puddy paused mid purr to look askance.
Now, the paramour had gone to work and I was alone, and nude. So naturally I did the lady like thing. I slipped on my dressing gown, grabbed the lady like putter by the side of my bed and charged-lady like-downstairs to do irreparable damage to whomsoever's skull I happened to tee off.
I had barely made it to the return when something shot past my head.
I released a terribly brave and lady like high-pitched scream and then another as a second later two more blurs tore up the stairs in hot pursuit.
I got my heart to restart and ran after the bigger of the cats and the one-eyed Marklar who were hurtling towards my bedroom.
It was at this point that I noticed Puddy hurtling towards me at one hundred cat fathoms an hour. (who knew she could move so fast at her age)
I side stepped her and she proceeded to carry on down the stairs. I proceeded on to the bedroom where I was stunned to find the two chap cats trying very bravely to take down one of those ferocious black and grey crows, you know, the big, big bastards that are always on the side of the motor way, waiting to pick off cattle or beggars or whatever the hell they like to do with their enormous beaks and huge bloody talons.
Once again I did the brave scream, as it flapped about the room, smacking off the mirror and getting tangled up in the curtains, curtains that Marklar decided to then climb, panicking Satan's wretched budgie to even more frantic 'ATRKSK' and more flapping.
What to do?
Well I did the only sane thing any sane woman would do. I fled and locked myself into the bathroom.
The arking and flapping went on for a while longer and then from the thudding of feet, I knew the whole possy had once more moved down stairs. Hearing Memnoch's evil mocking voice ringing in my ears I decided to stop being a scaredy cat and to go and sort out the intruder, perhaps to coax it to return to the pit of hell from whence it came.
I managed to make it the whole way down stairs this time just in time in fact to see the Bigger of the cats dragging the outraged vulture off my counter tops as it flapped and pecked like crazy. Marklar was behind the bigger of the cats, his tail as big as a racoon, his ears flat.
'Get out with that thing!' I whimpered bravely, and waved the golf club in a lady like but threatening manner.
TBOTC did just that. I stumbled into my kitchen-which looked like a small but powerful bomb had gone off in it what with the broken crockery and over turned plants- and watched as he hauled the still squawking winged beast down the garden to finish it off, the Marklar trotting behind in his wake.
'Holy fucking shite.' I said in lady like fashion and dropped the putter.
Puddy came out from where she was hiding under the the kitchen table. I picked her up and together we stood there, our hearts beating uncomfortably, my face drained of any human colour, her's stayed black and white.
Presently she began to purr and I decided to close the back door.
Bloody bloody birds and their bloody bloody flapping. I tell you, I'm not right.
Birds in the house... I'm AGAINST IT!