RANDOM REMINDER

Press, Volume CVI, Issue 31093, 23 June 1966, Page 24

RANDOM REMINDER

THE SMALL VOICE, STILL

It’s days now since the fire, and they still can’t get rid of the smell of smoke, even with the windows open to the winter wind and all the chemical aids paraded on the television screens for the establishment of the odour-free house. The fire? Caused, of course, by woman's ineptitude. She went out, leaving the oven on high, and in it a leg of mutton. She remembered, in midafternoon, what she had done and drove back at

frantic speed. Too late. The neighbours had seen the smoke pouring out of the place and had called the fire brigade. When she reached the house, there were two firemen in the kitchen, which was full of filthy dark smoke and clouds of the foam fire extinguisher. The leg of mutton looked like an over-cooked sausage. The firemen had also known better times. After a while, they had to get out of the thick smoke into clearer air to rest their lungs and eyes. It seemed u if the pall

of smoke would never clear. Back the firemen went to the reeking, dark kitchen. And as they came in the door, they heard the voice. “My name," it said, “is Pretty Bob.” No-one had remembered the family budgerigar. But it did not matter. Apart from being a slightly smudgy budgie. Bob was the picture of health. And has remained so, while his owners still cough and complain. He has not, in his considerable repertoire, made any reference to the fire. No doubt he’s trying to spare their feelings.