Mildred's Plaster

Those of you that read my stories will know that poor Mildred suffered an embarrassing fall at the ice rink and broke her ankle. Last week she had the plaster removed and we gained a chicken!

We arrived at the local surgery in my trusty Morris Minor with Mildred sprawled across the back seat as the car doesn't have reclining seats! Getting her in was difficult as there are no rear doors either and I had to get in and hold her as she wriggled her not inconsiderable bottom across the seat dragging her leg behind her.

Eventually she was comfortable and we got underway. Arriving at the surgery was just as dramatic. Mildred decided that she should leave the car head first and slithered snake-like out into the car park. I now had the prospect of picking her up as she lay, Pope John Paul II like, apparently kissing the ground that was now about an inch below her lips. Fortunately for us both this was the moment when two huge construction workers materialised and grabbing an end each they quickly righted my friend who thanked them sweetly and promised them scarves!

Once in the surgery we sat and waited for Mildred's call to be de-plastered. The waiting room was quite full, mostly with youths and children all sporting plasters on one part of their anatomy or another. Several older people were also present including an elderly man who eyed up the bored looking teenage female receptionist with a not entirely healthy eye! There was one of those amusing ironies at play. The teenage girl was in charge of calling forward the older people and a rather fierce large bosomed lady the youngsters. I am quite certain that one or two of the teen boys were desperately hoping that they might be ushered into whatever happened behind the wood veneered door that all those plastered entered by the girl, but instead they received the no nonsense bustling of the Matron! "Fun for all the family" Mildred said nodding in the direction of the latter's chest. Really, Mildred can be quite crude at times.

Eventually the girl called out Mildred's name "Miss Bosenket" she called - "Bosanquet" (Bo zen Kay) Mildred called back. The name is French and Mildred gets very upset when it is mispronounced. There used to be a TV announcer with the same name and he had a reputation for enjoying his wine. I sometimes remind her of this fact and she always snaps back "Not MY family at all". So there!

Mildred stumped away and was returned to me some fifteen minutes later plaster-free and sporting a crepe bandage instead. However, it wasn't her ankle that particularly caught my attention. Mildred clutched in her hands the freshly split open plaster! I enquired why she had kept it and she told me that it might come in useful one day. Pieces of string or pencil stubs come in useful; old plaster casts don't! But Mildred was not for turning and so it was that we headed for home with the empty cast lying in splendour across the back seat - Mildred was now comfortably ensconced in the passenger seat beside me.

As we turned out of the surgery we spotted Mrs Perleun standing at the bus stop. She saw us as we saw her and of course we had to pull in and offer her a lift home. She explained that she was not going straight back but wanted to pick up some chickens that she had ordered from Old Ted Hayseed at the village farm. I couldn't see a problem with that and the three of us gaily continued on out way talking earnestly about our recent Christmas lunch.

"I'll not be long" Mrs P said as she clambered out of the car and tottered off in the direction of the farm house. Why is it that when you are waiting for someone they always seem to take an awful lot longer that you expect - five minutes feels more like fifteen. This was the case now and Mildred and I started to get a little impatient with waiting. At length however, Mrs P and Ted came out of the house and disappeared into the old barn that stretched the length of the farmyard. A few more minutes and they appeared again - this time he was carrying something that looked very much like a cat's carrier basket. Mrs P looked into the car and enquired whether there was room on the back seat for her, the carrier basket and the plaster cast. "We'll squeeze you all in" smiled Mildred, but I was less enthusiastic. I had not realised that the chickens were going to be alive! Somehow we managed to get them all in and off we set. Mrs P just had to open the door of the carrier of course and suddenly the car was full of flapping chickens and squawking women! Thank goodness that the road was quiet. I had a chicken on my head, another left a very large deposit on Mildred's lap and yet another sat on the rear parcel shelf looking for all the world like a demented nodding dog so beloved of drivers in the 1970s.

I turned into Mrs P's driveway and never was I so relieved to make an arrival. We quickly bundled her out together with her chickens all of which we thought that we had rounded up and returned to the carrier. It was only on our arrival home that I discovered that nestled very comfortably within Mildred's old plaster cast there sat a small, plump and very much at home chicken. She didn't move as I brought that cast inside and sat contentedly in front of the fire in the kitchen whilst I rang Mrs P. "Could you keep her for now" she asked. "Any eggs that she lays are your too". We don't have a hen house so maybe Mildred's old plaster will come in handy after all!