Dearest Deborah,

Missing you tons. Just a quick note to let you know I am keeping up our tradition of tricks and jokes. You and I share a sense of humour; a unique sense of humour; a shared language between sisters but an indecipherable, unknown, language to others. Whoever of us served the first joke would usually score a snigger, then a return remark resulted in snicker and a snort, followed by a rally of remarks, shrieks and howls of laughter as we bantered our jokes back and forth. Your nostrils would twitch like baby elephant ears flapping up and down and your blue eyes would fill with tears; spilling, washing, drowning in uncontrollable laughter.

I played a joke on Mum and Dad this week. Do you remember in Africa when Dad arrived home carrying a cardboard box with holes made in the top, with cheeping sounds coming from it! Mum looked worried as Dad had already brought home; dogs, cats, goldfish and silkworms. We flipped back the lid of the cardboard box to six chicks, six puffs of yellow candyfloss. Dad said we needed chickens. Dad had bought the chicks off a man on the side of a road instead of going to the Farmers’ Co-op. Mum looked more worried. ’ Dad reassured us, ‘It’ll be lovely fresh eggs for breakfast soon, girls.’

Dad furnished one of the out-buildings with perches, nesting boxes and straw. He built a chicken-run bigger than our lounge and knocked two chicken-size holes into the building and attached smaller sliding doors, so they even had their own front door and back door. Chick mash, growers mash, layers mash, mixed grain – Dad gave them everything.  As you know those chicks started to grow, one month, two months; they grew adult feathers, three months, four months; they grew bright red combs, at four and a half months - they started to crow. All six chicks were cockerels. Dad gave the cockerels away. Dad did not go back to the Farmers’ Co-op, instead we drove to a farm out towards Lake McIlwaine and bought 6 light Sussex layers, 6 harcos and 6 four-o-fours; 18 chickens, definitely chickens, fully grown and at the point-of-lay. We ate eggs for breakfast, eggs for lunch and eggs with dinner. There were double yolks, soft yolks, hard yolks and yellow yolks. We scrambled, poached, boiled, fried and made omelettes. You and I were pleased when Mum took the eggs to her work and sold them. But Dad said the chickens looked lonely. We drove back to the farm and bought a cockerel. Cockylocky was a bantam, a feather duster of orange and green, he even had feathers on his feet.

As you know this week was Dad’s birthday, this week I arrived at Mum and Dad’s home carrying a cardboard box with holes made in the top and cheeping sounds coming from it! Mum looked worried. We carefully placed the cardboard box in front of the chicken door which Dad installed for ventilation to his orangery. Mum looked at Dad, Dad looked at Mum. Dad looked sheepish. Do you remember after Dad installed the chicken door he joked and said he might get chickens again? Mum glared at the chicken door, then back at Dad. Dad looked scared. ‘Well are you going to open it?’ said Mum, arms folded and lips pursed. They leaned over the box. The cheeping reached its crescendo. Dad gingerly pulled back the lid of the box and there standing inside were… chicks, three chicks of white metal… and a phone playing, ‘two hours of chick noises’ on Youtube. Surprise, relief, a naughty word from Mum, then laughter – you can imagine their reaction. The three chick sculptures came with a hen and a cockerel, five in total, just like our family. They were made in Zimbabwe from reclaimed fridges. I have included a photo and you will see Cockylocky and family are roosting up in the rafters of Dad’s orangery.

I hope you liked Dad’s birthday joke and it made you laugh. I can still hear your laughter, even on a dark day, so I will sit here and close my eyes and let the sound of your laughter wash over me like spray from Victoria Falls.

Tons of love and hugs,

Your No1 sister, Anita. XXXX

PS Mum and Dad send their love.