Storm in a teacup:memoirs of a tea lady. Chapter 12

 Chapter 12.

Although my predicament was frightening, I was determined to prove to the world that despite my tender years, I could be an accomplished tea lady.     

My first gig was fast approaching —the Wattlebird Ornithological Society’s Annual General Meeting at the Town Hall—at which a new president, secretary, treasurer and committee was to be elected.

Mother, still in her bed, sheltered by a mountain of bedding and books, chirped, “Take birdseed.”

“Birdseed?” I squawked.

Mother craned her head upward as if to say, “You’ll find out why.”

So I packed a bag of birdseed onto the tea trolley and the scones I’d baked that morning and made my way to the town hall where the raucous sound of birds greeted me.

The president, secretary, treasurer, committee and members of the Wattlebird Ornithological Society were a curious lot, for they all bore a striking resemblance to birds of one kind or another. On seeing me they all took flight and perched themselves onto chairs, and commence whooping, warbling, twittering, as they presumably elected office bearers.

                The president, who looked like a kookaburra, laughed uproariously throughout the meeting. I swear I even saw bird feathers on the floor as I doled out cups of tea and scones. But it was when I scattered some birdseed onto a table that things quickly got out-of-hand, as suddenly the many decent law-biding citizens of Wattlebird began to peck at it.

                That night as I sat next to my mother, who was nestled in her warm bed, I recounted my debut in minute detail to her. Mother listened attentively , nodding slightly before giving what I believe to be, a small hooting sound, like that of an owl.

                Afterwards, much later that night, I studied my image in the bathroom mirror, concerned that I might be turning into a bird, (an owl), as opposed to being a tea lady. I saw nothing. No beak, no feathers, and I certainly didn’t have a bird’s eye view or possess wisdom.  I flapped my arms in an attempt to fly. Nothing. I scattered birdseed onto the kitchen table but the urge to peck at it eluded me.  My research proved beyond any reasonable doubt that I was not a bird. No, I was a tea lady.