1973 School Magazine

z.z.z. I have a parrot called Underwear who shrieks and chats with the neighbours (silly people) and is linked to his perch via a 2O foot aluminium thread which, though light, is strong enough to restrain his high and wild callings to nature. I have another pet - Parent. Parent is a galah. Parent's a dead galah. He's easier to look after - less noisy. My neighbours are really perverse. Parent and Underwear are rivals for my affections. Their antics on the perch are fascinating. Although Underwear can weave baskets (he talks to himself, too) with his thread. Parent's uncanny ability to stand on his perch with head closer to the ground than his feet for hours on end never ceases to amaze me, But I am not a nasty person basically. I realise my little buddies need fresh air and exercise so every so often I walk down to the shop with them - on their threads of course. Underwear looks forward to tiris treat and circles high above us (his slender throat has been elongated through an inaccurate calculation of 20 feet many times). Parent doesn't like exercise. He just lets me drag him along behind. We three have become quite a common sight around the district. Though I must admit a slightly stronger affection toward Parent. Underwear has it all over him in one respect. You see, and discretion is called for here, Parent's got body odour - though I wouldn't dream of telling the little fellow. He never has much fun in the bird bath. He just sort of lies there - taking in the sun I suppose. Underwear is far the superior in the sports and activities line. But that faraway unfaltering look in Parent's eyes always suggest that he is deep in thought - "is there an afterlife?" My happiest moment, and proudest is having my litfle pals perched up on my shoulder @arent is a bit droopy at times - sleeping sickness I think). But what would happen to Parent and me and Under- wear if one of us decided to leave? Ashleigh Merritt.