She's a Crab and if you think about it, you don't often see crabs walking along with anyone else.. Crab or otherwise, do you? I'm a Lion and we're pretty independent too. And here, in real life, there are just the two of us.
Are we lonely? Sometimes is the honest answer to that, because loving to no avail is her definition of loneliness but that's because no-one whom she 'loved' is still alive but having had someone whom she loved as she did, and still does for he may be dead but he sure as hell isn't forgotten, is tricky.
Why's it tricky? Well, I guess it is because she was happy with him, he wasn't faultless and she CERTAINLY ain't, that's for sure! Don't worry folks, she taps this so all my posts are proof read by her before you, Dear Readers, get to read them.
People come to our home and think it is very much 'our' home, which is true. of course. But they don't see the two birds under which they walk in the sitting room, they don't see the small silver bell in the kitchen which says Christmas 1993, neither do they see, perching high up in the bathroom, the Waterford Partridge in the Pear tree nor the Turtle Dove.
He gave her these along with many other things but the most important gifts he gave her were his love and his friendship and, thereby, the love and friendship of his mother.
In 1986 they had that ghastly, dreadful, almighty ear-drum busting, antique china breaking (she didn't do it - he did) argument, she high-tailed it out of Dodge, coming back to London and proceeded to have a veryvery regrettable affair with an tyre-kicker, aka motor car salesman.
When they heard what had happened, his mama in Pittsburgh wept and her mother, Constance, was beside herself with rage! For she, too, had done something as equally stupid, hadn't had the courage to go back and apologise and lived to regret it for the rest of her life.
Strangely, only a few people in England even knew about him, her parents did, of course, but neither of her brothers ever met or knew about him. Her sister in law Catherine in France met him, her much beloved friend Madge met him once in the early 90's, mad 'Skip' Muller met him with her in Stuttgart in 1983 and they went on to become good buddies back in the States.
He died the year after Miss Betty and her mother died, the same year that Hay darling died, almost a year before darling Dagga Parrot and I never knew him. I haven't had to 'share' her with anyone.
SHARE! That's another inside joke.. which you'll know if you've read all my posts, I ain't going to repeat myself by telling it again, but here's a clue.. it involves eggs.
So rather than make do with second-best or enter fantasy land, she remains part of a pair, one.. of the two of us. "We're in or we're out of the money, days maybe cloudy or sunny, but we're rolling along, singing this song.." We'll do, just us two.
GeeGee Parrot.
Christmas Day.
December 25th, 2015.
PostScript: She called the USA today and she spoke to LuLu. A tale of bravery & courage which will make you think of how much we take a lot of things for granted is coming up in my next tale.
Are we lonely? Sometimes is the honest answer to that, because loving to no avail is her definition of loneliness but that's because no-one whom she 'loved' is still alive but having had someone whom she loved as she did, and still does for he may be dead but he sure as hell isn't forgotten, is tricky.
Why's it tricky? Well, I guess it is because she was happy with him, he wasn't faultless and she CERTAINLY ain't, that's for sure! Don't worry folks, she taps this so all my posts are proof read by her before you, Dear Readers, get to read them.
People come to our home and think it is very much 'our' home, which is true. of course. But they don't see the two birds under which they walk in the sitting room, they don't see the small silver bell in the kitchen which says Christmas 1993, neither do they see, perching high up in the bathroom, the Waterford Partridge in the Pear tree nor the Turtle Dove.
He gave her these along with many other things but the most important gifts he gave her were his love and his friendship and, thereby, the love and friendship of his mother.
In 1986 they had that ghastly, dreadful, almighty ear-drum busting, antique china breaking (she didn't do it - he did) argument, she high-tailed it out of Dodge, coming back to London and proceeded to have a veryvery regrettable affair with an tyre-kicker, aka motor car salesman.
When they heard what had happened, his mama in Pittsburgh wept and her mother, Constance, was beside herself with rage! For she, too, had done something as equally stupid, hadn't had the courage to go back and apologise and lived to regret it for the rest of her life.
Strangely, only a few people in England even knew about him, her parents did, of course, but neither of her brothers ever met or knew about him. Her sister in law Catherine in France met him, her much beloved friend Madge met him once in the early 90's, mad 'Skip' Muller met him with her in Stuttgart in 1983 and they went on to become good buddies back in the States.
He died the year after Miss Betty and her mother died, the same year that Hay darling died, almost a year before darling Dagga Parrot and I never knew him. I haven't had to 'share' her with anyone.
SHARE! That's another inside joke.. which you'll know if you've read all my posts, I ain't going to repeat myself by telling it again, but here's a clue.. it involves eggs.
So rather than make do with second-best or enter fantasy land, she remains part of a pair, one.. of the two of us. "We're in or we're out of the money, days maybe cloudy or sunny, but we're rolling along, singing this song.." We'll do, just us two.
GeeGee Parrot.
Christmas Day.
December 25th, 2015.
PostScript: She called the USA today and she spoke to LuLu. A tale of bravery & courage which will make you think of how much we take a lot of things for granted is coming up in my next tale.
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