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A Light Repast

Constanzia Moralez y de Zamora

Once upon a time, a long time ago, when living in shared accommodation was the norm for my income, I lived with two people. Don't get me wrong, these people remain two of my favourite people and I have rather fond memories of one particular mischievous person. Please allow me to share this experience with you.

We had a pet chook. She lived in a wire cage downstairs and we fed her and fed her and fed her. She was a lovely fat chook. Her name was Repast. She lived downstairs for quite some time but I don't think she was aware of her destiny. I wasn't exactly quite aware of her destiny either. (Though you'd think with a name like "Repast" that I might have had a slight hint).

Just to let you know, I'm not an early morning person. I'm not a morning person full stop. I can only get going after at least one decent coffee. This particular morning I made myself a coffee, reached into the fridge for the milk. I stared into the fridge, hand on the milk to see Repast staring fair into my face with a flower stuck in her mouth. I shut the door. Was I dreaming? I opened the door. Nope, she was still there. Repast had been cooked, stuffed and her feathers remounted. Her eyes were glazy and somehow she had a smirk on her face. I was shocked and slightly horrified. It wasn't everyday that you saw the pet chook displayed for eating in your fridge. I slammed the door of the fridge, screamed and yelled, "Ulfgar!"

This is what happens when you live with an experimenting medievalist. You never quite know exactly will be in your fridge.