One little annoying behavioural quirk that Lars-Göran has is a habit of not closing drawers properly. I think it must run in his family as his youngest daughter also seems to suffer from the same affliction. I have lost count of the times that I have entered a room and had to finish shutting a drawer for them. It's never left fully open, or even half open. Usually it is just a small slit, but enough to irritate an anal retentive order freak like me. What can be so hard about closing it properly? It makes the room look so much neater when it is closed, though I seem to have failed in my attempts to educate Lars-Göran and am now resigned to gritting my teeth and closing them myself every day. There is also the little matter of how to hang up the towels as well, but that is far too traumatic for me to write about while fully sober.

One reason that I'd like them to remember to shut all drawers is that the birds are very inquisitive and they also love to shred anything they can lay their little beaks on. As they are Australian birds, there is of course no way to discipline them or teach them any sense. So does Lars-Göran heed my warnings? What do you think?

You will perhaps recall last month that Bruce showed a sudden interest in gaining access to the desk drawer. As there are a variety of important papers in there, I'm not so keen that he gets his way. But he still tries.




So far, it has remained a bird free zone. Until today. As well as papers, we keep the cable to connect the camera to the computer in this drawer. Lars-Göran needed to download some pictures, so he grabbed the cord from the drawer and moved over to his laptop. He was going to be just a few minutes, so he didn't close the drawer. Not that anyone noticed or anything!




In a microsecond, the pair of them fluttered down from their little workplace (shredding my bamboo blinds) and casually sat on the rattan chair examining their toenails and trying (but failing desperately) to look nonchalant.




Before I had a chance to say "I hope you shut that drawer", Sheila loyally stood guard, while Bruce casually hopped over to the side of the drawer and peeped in at the new and fascinating world of guarantees, passports, cables and diskettes. Hours of enjoyment for a cheeky bird bored with nibbling our video, CD and book collection.




He surveyed his new playground from the relative safety of the rechargable battery box. My goodness, what to eat first. Should I rifle through the lot or just start right on in and eat this silly paper called vigselbevis (marriage certificate) - I bet it's tasty and I'm sure they won't miss it. And shredding it to confetti seems somehow fitting, doesn't it?




But wait.... here's some computer diskettes with boring names like "Backup", maybe I can claw them or even leave a little something deposited on it, if only I could just squeeze right in to the back where I could reach them. Thinking that the coast was clear and that he hadn't been spotted, Bruce yelled out the cockatiel equivalent of "Where the bloody hell are you?" and Sheila stopped acting as lookout, diving straight on in after him.




I decided at this stage that the party was over and so shooed them out and they went back to eating the blinds and ceiling cornice instead. Though I can see a gleam in their eyes and they are waiting for an opportunity to take advantage of another opportunity when the drawer is left ajar and unattended. Knowing Lars-Göran, my guess is that we won't have to wait long. So now I'm on the lookout for a decent, birdproof (and husband proof) document box that I can safely stow out of harm's way.