apologia pro parakeets mea

Driving Miss Lily through the heartland of South Kildare.

Wild, wet and windy day.

"Did you by any chance happen to buy a pair of budgerigars?" she enquires pleasantly.

"What would make you think that," quoth me all innocence.

"Because when we were praying the Our Father this morning, I distinctly heard you say Forgive us our trespasses, and then you added particularly ones like buying two budgies and smuggling them into the house without telling anyone."

"Oh Mother, that's an approved variation of the Our Father, it's the Tridentine budgie rite."

"So if I go down to your room I won't find any budgies?"

"No you won't find them," sez me confidently.

She gave me a piercing stare.

"Your father is going to have a canniptian," she mused.

"I know," sez me.