A few comments I made on a Smorgasbord afternoon video that D.G Kaye shared suddenly reminded me of Bombhead, the dear little green budgie that was part of our family when I was a child. He really was the most entertaining pet, largely due to a couple of traits that I’ve mentioned below (by the way he was identical to the featured image, and Bombhead was usually pronounced in our East London accent – Bom’ed).
Bombhead was very talkative. Dad would sit the bird on the end of his finger, look into his beady eyes, and patiently spend much time teaching him to swear. Bombhead ended up cursing like the proverbial trooper, but of course Dad only did this when my mother wasn’t listening. The fruits of Dad’s labours would surface when we had visitors and the noise level rose. Bombhead was very adept at stopping any conversation with his colourful language. People tended to listen to what the bird would come out with next. He could say ‘s**t‘ with true feeling in his high budgie voice, amongst several other words which to Mum’s embarrassment Bombhead would utter most emphatically in polite company. Dad would usually get a rollicking when the visitors had gone.
Mum hated to see Bombhead cooped up, and took his cage door away so that he could come and go as he pleased. Bombhead flew around the house to his heart’s content, which always alarmed my grandmother when she came to visit. She hated that bird. Flapping wings would cause her arms to flail about above her head, and Bombhead seemed to sense her antagonism and flapped and dived bombed all the more. Prim and proper, she ignored his swearing as best she could.
Bombhead would sit on my shoulder and nuzzle his beak into my neck, or wrap his warm little feet around my finger. He’d sigh sometimes and say ‘I’m fed up‘, or ‘Where’s the beer?’ I’d stroke his feathery chest and try to teach him more appropriate words in case the vicar ever came to tea.
Unfortunately Bombhead came to a sticky end. We had a tall standard lamp in one corner of the room with a fringed lampshade. One morning in early 1969 Mum found Bombhead in rigor mortis hanging with his head caught in one of the lamp’s fringes. Life just wasn’t the same without him.
At school aged 11 I thought long and hard about what to write for an inter-schools’ writing competition. I wrote from the heart about our lovely little Bom’ed and I won the competition, which delighted me no end and was the encouragement I needed to carry on with a lifetime of writing. Wherever Bombhead is now I hope he’s still flying free and cursing enough to make a sailor blush.
Another memory surfaces… I inherited the title of Bom’ed from that bird, as Dad would often liken my thick curly hair to a bomb that had just gone off.
dgkaye said:
Thanks for the mention Stevie. I’m glad that video inspired you to write about Bombhead, hilarious name for what sounds like he was a hilarious pet. 🙂 x
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Stevie Turner said:
I took up the mantle after his demise. Dad called me Bombhead for years.
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Jennie said:
I love this story, Stevie. I can see your grandmother ducking And bristling in spite of all the joy.
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Stevie Turner said:
I’m sure Bom’ed knew she hated him.
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Jennie said:
🙂
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Nathan said:
Awwww what a great story! We used to have budgies as well, but, try as we may, we could never get them to talk! I’m glad you had more luck!
Cheers!
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Stevie Turner said:
We could never shut Bom’ed up.
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Nathan said:
Hahaha you’ll have to teach me how to train them!
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joylennick said:
Such a heart-warming story, Stevie.No wonder you won the prize. When I was first married, we had a dear little blue budgerigar named (unoriginally) Tweetie. When I arrived home from work, he would sing and chatter with joy and I would leave his door open and let him fly around. He could perform a few simple tricks but only say “Pretty boy…” over and over… and when he died in my hand from throat cancer, I thought my heart would break.
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Stevie Turner said:
They’re lovely little creatures, aren’t they? Bom’ed was special I think.
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Miriam Hurdle said:
This is a great story, Stevie, and it sure made an impact on your life as a writer. My first grade teacher said I was bright and that what I believe all my life.
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Stevie Turner said:
All kids need is encouragement. Some unfortunately don’t get any at all.
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Miriam Hurdle said:
I know, Stevie. I remember saying to my daughter’s teacher – “She takes compliment well,” after she praised my daughter.
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tidalscribe said:
No wonder you won, what a unique story.
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Stevie Turner said:
It was all Bom’ed’s doing!
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jenanita01 said:
I have never had a pet that could speak to me, it’s usually me doing all the talking…
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Stevie Turner said:
Bom’ed had a lot to say. However, not all of it you would have wanted to hear!
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jenanita01 said:
I think I would, never heard a bird swear like a miner before…
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Stevie Turner said:
Bom’ed was unique!
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jenanita01 said:
Reblogged this on anita dawes and jaye marie.
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Stevie Turner said:
Thank you for the re-blog.
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TanGental said:
that’s great; power to your dad’s sauce. Mine would have been the same which is probably why we never had a pet anything that could talk. Mum just knew…
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Stevie Turner said:
Mum knew, but the more she nagged, the more Dad did it…
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Darlene said:
What a wonderful story and a great start to your writing career! We had many pets as we lived on a farm but the most special was a pet antelope called, Bambi. Hubby had a pet budgie growing up in York called, Ernest.
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Stevie Turner said:
All kids need a pet, I think.
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