DANCING ON THE CEILING

Strange title, wasn’t it a song, we’ve been trying to think who did it, I think it was blancmange, if anyone reads this old bollocks and knows, give us an email, it’s starting to annoy me. Anyway, we are now in the bird breeding season, literally millions of um, but I’d like to tell you about one, just one individual. The bird in question is a Brown Noddy, they’re about the size of a smallish gull and a fantastic looking creature. They are called Noddies because of their display. To attract a female Mr Noddy with his ridiculously short legs walks like a clockwork toy on amphetamines around Mrs Noddy, if she’s impressed with his pythonesque prowess, she also walks in a similar way, and when there’s been sufficient walking to make things descent, right and proper, they nod. We live in a bungalow with a tin roof, the upper side of the tin is the roof, the under side is our ceiling, and in this particular case, our bedroom ceiling.
At the moment we are starting work at 6am and finishing at around 8pm(this is our busiest time) so sleep is the most important thing on everyone’s agenda. Friday night, bed at 9.30 and out like a light, 12.30 a weird noise wakes me, I turn to Sal zzzzzzzzzz not to loud for her then. The noise had to be a bird because there isn’t anything other than birds on the island big enough to make such a din. It’s hard to describe a noise, but imagine an empty coke can, you dent the side with your thumb and it makes a sound, when you take the pressure off and the dent pops out it makes a slightly different sound, to me its kulink kulunk. Now imagine your in the coke can! that’s what it was like, I was lying there thinking do I wait this out, kulink kulunk kulink kulunk, no I had to do something. I get out of bed put on my head torch and get the steps. The eves of the roof are about 10ft high so I had to use the very top of the steps. There he was, the bastard, Mr Noddy, giving it the kulink kulunk, what he was doing was tapping one foot on the higher profile of the tin then quickly shifting his wait and tapping the lower profile with the other, he was dancing! and I tell you what, he had bloody good rhythm, Fred Astare or not, he had to go! I gave him full power from my torch - zap, I reckon he thought it was stage lights, all it did was rev him up kulink kulunk kulink kulunk with a slightly quicker tempo like he was auditioning for some poxi channel 3 program, “It’s Jeremy Poxi Beadle’s Celebrity Wild Animal Time”
As I said, I’m on the top of the steps with the roof about 3ft above that, I’m looking at Fred who’s not at all perturbed by the 1000 candle torch that shining right up this nose, so in the name of sleep and sanity , I have no alternative, I must climb on the roof and do battle! Show down, me and Fred.
I should add, that it’s so hot here we sleep with no clothes on, not a stitch, and, as I thought the torch would be enough to shoo off Fred, I didn’t see any need to put shorts on.
The roof pitch is not so steep; I’m thinking I should have no problem. I cock one leg onto the roof, then, gingerly manage to get the other one up, as soon as my whole weight is off the steps and on the roof, Fred flies, coward, now I need to get down.
A head torch does what it’s supposed to, it shines from your head in a forward direction, as I’m on the roof and the steps underneath me what I need is an ass torch. But besides the predicament I’m in at the moment here can’t be much of a call for such a thing, even if there was, I’m sure we wouldn’t have brought one with us. So, I’m on the roof butt naked and have to get down. The last leg up is now the first leg down, out it goes into the dark fishing around for the top of the steps, got it first time. I ease my weight onto the tread, unfortunately my aim was not perfect and my weight went to the far edge of the tread, as the steps are on sand they slowly move away from me. I’m now in big trouble, one leg on the moving steps, one tucked under my arm pit and my naggers caught in the guttering! I don’t have long here as the steps are slowly sinking and moving away from me. All that’s keeping me up there is the suction of my body sprawled on the tin and my naggers in the guttering. Do I call Sal for help, well, if she could sleep through Fred tripping the light fantastic she sure aint going to wake up with a quite “Saaaal helllp” from me, the danger of a louder cry is waking up someone else, what a sight that would be! I’m definately not showing my best side from the ground looking up. I am now desperately looking for some sort of purchase on the roof, all there is the little plastic cups that cover the nails that fix the tin, I wrap a finger around it and pull, I move, just a little but enough to relieve the guttering pressure, you wouldn’t think guttering is sharp until you dangle delicate bits of your anatomy in it and apply pressure. I get off the roof and go back to bed, exhausted. Alarm goes off far too early Sal leans across and says “morning, sleep well?“