My father won a budgerigar  in a cage in a raffle at the Irish Club in Gloucester. I wanted to call the budgie Onan because he was always spilling his seed on the ground. Somehow he came to be called Paddy which was confusing for everybody including the budgie. My mother called  my father Paddy even though his given name was Jeremiah. My father’s father was baptised Paddy as was my father’s brother who also lived in Gloucester and frequented the Irish Club. I have a cousin in Cobh called Paddy. Ours was not a household geared up for the maintenance of animal companions. My Aunty Evelyn gave me a tortoise called Cuthbert who was not much fun. He didn’t do any tricks or exhibit any talents. I think I might have killed him by waking him up when he was hibernating. As Dorothy Parker said of Calvin Coolidge, “how could they tell?” It was difficult to get any action out of Paddy the budgie. I wonder was he a deaf mute? He didn’t talk. Not a word. Not even a chirrup. Perhaps he was a depressive. Not much fun being in a cage and having a cloth thrown over you at the same time every night when a cloth was thrown over the telly.A budgie called Paddy in a cage puts heaven in a rage. Poor budger did not live very long.