The Blues

Funky & Chicken get married

On January 6, 2012, in Family, Life, wot's on, by Rosie

If you’re a new reader to this blog, welcome and thanks for visiting. Funky & Chicken are our favourite fictional octogenarians. They live in Hygiene Heights, have grown-up kids, grandkids and great-ones, and they value cleanliness above all else. Except, perhaps ‘Words with Friends‘ and Funky’s latest obsession: Trains.

If you doubt the statement about valuing cleanliness, you should eat off their floor. It’s cleaner than our plates, although they have been known to let their carpets go un-vacuumed for two days. Not so the wiping of benches or other food-related surfaces, because NO. Germs and ‘gunk’.

Twould be just so wrong. Imagine the mold. Imagine *screws up nose* the smell! YUCK!

Yesterday, Funky and Chicken celebrated 60 years of marriage. Usually, this blog loves to lampoon the couple of the moment, heaping fun at their foibles, denying the fact that all this stuff might be genetic. That’s inappropriate this week. After 60 years of marriage, this post is all about the admiration, the inspiration, the 60 years of never an angry word exchanged.

I won’t reveal all their secrets of their long, successful partnership. Suffice to say that what happens in the marital home stays in the marital home, unless it involves the altercation they had when Chicken chucked a saucepan at Funky’s head, or when Chicken slammed her hot iron down on the laminated kitchen table, creating a scar in the surface that lasted longer than the angry words.

Unless you count the fact that they totally spooned when they were younger (ewwwwww, ffs, though Chicks cuddled into Funk’s back!) and I only discovered it when I went into their bedroom, leaned over their snuggled coupledom and proclaimed that I was gunner vomit. (In ‘those days’ one didn’t avail oneself of their parent’s bedroom. It was more a sanctuary than a place to share the bed with 6 grommets). Unfortunately, with the arrival of child number five’s spew, the spooning ended up as a fork-reaction — Funky jabbed Chicken to get out of bed and tend a sick child.

No lampooning today.

Unless it’s about well-loved phrases like: ‘Your Funky snored all night. He had a dream where he was kicking a dog and ended up kicking ME. Your Funky is doing the lawns again in 40 degree heat. Sweat is dripping from him and he’s only had one glass of water in the past month. Chicken is on the phone to your Auntie Marmalade, talking, talking, talking. Funky can’t rest until the edges are clipped/the leaves are picked from the tree so they don’t drop on the ground during Autumn/the garden has so much fertiliser on it, it’d kill vampires.’

Or, ‘your Chicken’d talk underwater. One time she did when I tried to drown her on the lilo at the beach, and she screamed while submerged. Your Funky’s back is sore because his tummy is so bloated. So BIG. Chicken is always at me about something. Chicken backed the car 2mm too wide out of the carpark and nearly scraped the duco, Funky is obsessed with TRAINS, Chicken watches a whole-lot-o-rot on telly, Funky wants to put the footy on, but he’s asleep by the time it starts, Chicken has a lot of stray hairs all over her collar …’

There’s no mocking on their 60th anniversary.

Unless it’s about the times when either of them find tiny insects invading their living space and use enough bug-killer to eradicate the entire population of ants. Or spiders and flies. Worldwide. Unless it’s about their preparation for most trips, which often involve a fight about packing, a week’s-worth of ironing in preparation for Funky’s touring wardrobe, the discovery of weevils in flour, ants in the pantry, leaking water ‘neath a pipe, (potential) blockage of a bowel or back muscle …

But no. This post is all about the celebration of a huge milestone, not lambasting everything Funky and Chicken.

Despite the funnies, which we gently mock and see (absolutely) within ourselves, they are amazing. They made a commitment sixty years ago and have stuck together through unbelievable highs and shocking lows. They’ve breathed life into six children, said a temporary goodbye to one, welcomed eighteen grandkids, while bidding adieu to one lost too early. They’ve just had their second great-grandy.

They love to see their younger peeps involved with a special someone, although I SWEAR that if Funky speaks to his grandchildren and their (NEW) partners about marriage again, I will slap his cheek. Facial. Or otherwise!

In the true nature of anniversary, we thank them for their role in our lives. For the inspirational message of sticking it out, despite the hardships, for addressing problems, for realising that life is not always easy, but a work in progress. That there is joy in life and it should be grabbed with both hands. That it’s important to be loyal because you might meet people in life that are not this way. That you can depend on family.

And although they have learned that ‘clannish’ family can often be overwhelming (to those outside the McFunky and for those within) their message of solidarity does provide us with strength. Even when we think we don’t need it. Even when we may shun it.

To Funky and Chicken. Thank you. I love you, even though we have the ability to drive each other nutso. Happy Anniversary and stop spending our inheritance, ffs.