It is a little girl for a start. Her name is Betty. It is out the back of Berry. It looks nice. The fellow who owns the place would be around, the little girl’s father would be there, also her mother. She is looking after the chicken. Betty is hiding from the chicken. She is frightened of the chicken.
She doesn’t look frightened, she is hiding from her friends. You would hear sounds through your ear and chicken sounds, it could be a duck. You would hear the daughter, she would hear chocks and a chicken sound. Cock-a-doodle-do. You would smell a chicken yard not the best smell a little bit of everything, use your imagination. She would smell a chicken being cooked. I am seeing what they are watching. She would grow up to be a cook. She might be a marvelous cook. She has a house and there must be a family attached to it. She was over the corner from my place for a while. Someone smelt the cooked chicken and came and took it. I would have clocked her if I had caught her. She went with them. She is only five.
This story was created by Patricia, Val, Brenda, Felicia, Monica, Theo, Therese, Roma and Pat at St. Joseph’s Dementia Unit on Friday 20 September 2013.