Once again, I can’t possibly improve on the title that appeared in my inbox – here is the exciting conclusion to the saga of Chicken Matilda. In case you missed it, this story – nay, this case – already had an update so entertaining I’m considering hiring this letter writer as a sub-contractor (check the update at the bottom of the page to see what I mean)… and now, finally, here’s how it turned out… 

 

Hi Duana,

It’s me. I hope you and the Lainey Team are all well in these weird times. I’ve been hiding at home with a baby, surrounded by disease and apocalyptic toilet roll hoarding, and now I feel this is as good a time as any to give you an update.

I also feel like I should make this email short, like: ‘We chose the boringest name ever, k, sorry, love you, bye xx’

But ‘tis not my style, so here we go...

We named baby Matilda Ann. Ann. No ‘e’. Ann. Just Ann. Party in the front. Ann in the back. Yeah. 

Yeah?

I don’t know, Duana, maybe it’s because me and my V were shook to f-ck after pushing a small human out and thinking about anything else also hurt, but I’m really happy with what we chose (even though I can’t shake the feeling that we may have just chosen the easiest option possibly available).

 

In my defence (against my own judgement), the name Ann does have lots of meaning to us, so I didn’t just pluck it out of my arse. May I also point out (to myself, clearly) that when we picked it, we did have that ‘yes, that’s it!’ moment, like we did for her first name, so...

Christ. I’m even boring myself here. I’ll stop.

Anyway, as poor Chicken Matilda became an unspoken spectre of the poultry past, Baby Matilda arrived in plenty of time for Christmas and is an absolute delight. She’s often called Tillie for short but never Tillie Ann. The latter gives major pageant baby vibes, doesn’t it? Tillie Ann. Say it in a Southern accent: Tillie Aaaaaannnn. Is it only me that visualises a tiny child in fake tan and a hairpiece? Only me? Anyone? Just me? Ok.

This has been great craic, though. I’m considering getting a fifth cat just so we can name someone else, or maybe some more...chickens?

Stay safe, Duana!

Love you, bye*

xx

*for now

‘For now’ indeed, you mad, chicken-loving genius. For now, indeed.