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Tuesday 12 July 2016

A day in the life of St Mary's Eagle

They call me "The budgie".  Rude innit?

Some of you may remember when that awful Ray woman made me this bonnet for Easter.

Thought it was funny.

(I did sneak a sly look in the mirror when they'd all gone home, thought I looked quite good)

Honest though, you'd never believe the things I've seen (and heard).

They lean on me to do their Sunday readings, idiots can't stand up by themselves.

They shout or whisper or croak, they mispronounce names, they pause in all the wrong places then climb down off the little step and leave sticky prints all over my nice clean shiny brass.

They ignore me when they have concerts in the church.  Lovely music, awful people.

The brats (sorry, dear little children) poke and prod me and cover me in finger-prints, think just cos I'm  brass I can't feel it.

Sometimes they have musicals or shows in the church, last week in was something called "Noye's Fludde",  Can't even spell it proper can they?

Never occurs to them I might like a part.  All those animals in the ark and not one single eagle to be seen, when the best looking eagle ever is standing there right in front of 'em.

I've been here a long time, longer than any of them but you don't see me on that old electoral roll of theirs.  Like I said.  Rude.

They never ask me to sing in their rotten old choir, not even an audition in all these years.

One thing though.

I'll still be here when they ain't.

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