The Chicken Shop

We were sitting in Tilleys eating potato wedges and there happened to be Darryl Braithwaite doing a sound check. He’s somewhat grey now but still of golden tonsils.

“Well there you go, Mumsy. You come here for coffee and you get a free concert.”

“Yes! I’ve seen him before. In the Sherbert days. And so have you! In utereo. You were rockin’ along in there with a rhythmic kick.”

“Well, howzat.”

Now that Rhi is teaching classes, she’s bonding with the Mothership on a whole new level. She’s tough but the students love her, they call her Miss even though she’s their age or younger. Mum had proud tears in her eyes when Rhi told her that some of the kids have nicknamed her “No Mercy”.

They talked about teaching styles and curriculums and somethings and something elses. La la la. I sat quietly playing Snake on my phone, watching stray dogs out the window (why are there so many dogs in Lyneham?).

I eventually butted in to say, “I have a staple remover. It is yellow and shiny.”

Then it was out to Gold Creek for The Chicken Shop. It has other crafty ye old homewares but for the Mothership it is primarily The Chicken Shop. We hid in the car while she picked up her layby. A patchwork Santa doll, a patchwork Snowman doll and a framed chicken painting. She unwrapped her purchases on the hood of the car, hopping from one foot to the other, shouting through the windscreen, “Look at his cute little carrot nose! Look at that stitching! Don’t you wish it was Christmas now so we could hang these up?”


On the way back we were updated on The Continuing Saga Of The Lack Of Toilets At The School (official title) which she claimed, “would make a great story for your website” however I don’t think kindergarten kids with crossed legs and pained expressions queuing up for Port-A-Loos is that interesting.

Finally we heard the sad tale of a friend who is taking care of an ailing mother. The poor old dear has had an operation for every bit of her body and the daughter has had to drive her to the hospital and nurse her back to health every time, while the other two siblings haven’t lifted a finger.

“Well that’s bloody slack. Why aren’t the others helping?”

“Oh I don’t know. They’re good for nothing. She’s doing it all!”

“I hope she’ll be rewarded for her good deeds!”

“In the next life, you mean?”

“Nooo, in her mother’s will!”

“Shauna! She is doing it for the love of her mother!”

“Well, I’m not sure that would be enough incentive for me!”

About Shauna Reid

Ahoy there! I’m Shauna, an author, copywriter and content mentor. I love telling stories about life and helping others to tell theirs.

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13 thoughts on “The Chicken Shop

  1. so even though at christmas it is summertime there, you still use the snowman as a symbol of christmas? that’s really, really odd.

  2. ctrent: Hey, we use snowmen at Xmas here in Florida, where it’s usually *well* above freezing on December 25th.

    shauny: Heeehehehehe – picturing the expression on the Mothership’s face after your last comment.

  3. Yes, the American cultures permeate everything, everywhere, no matter how fucking stupid it is to hang snowmen on xmas trees when it’s 45 C out. (that’s like, 120 or something F). Bitter? me? no.

  4. The whole of Xmas seems ridiculous to me, except for the exchanging crap presents and getting into family arguments thing (something which I believe the Yanks get out of the way at thanksgiving), so the snowmen don’t bother me much more than the rest of the tack associated with the season.

  5. hehe, but do you really want to inherit a flock of decorative chickens?

    And I did like the bit about the staple remover. Very funny! 😀

  6. that’s what i was getting at monkey, just making sure. although, we do have good fights where you end up hating everyone in your family at thanksgiving, we also do that at christmas — and usually any other time that we all get together. good times, good times. although, thanksgiving is a great holliday, and all should really participate. it’s only about eating and watching football — it’s as good as it gets.

  7. i figure i’m going to wait to be a ‘good son’ until my parents are in their seventies. then i can put in minimum effort for maximum reward 😉

  8. i treat her just fine! i didn’t write the bit that came next were she laughed for five minutes flat.

    laughter doesn’t translate well into text.

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