The Suspicious Sheep

Friday 26th March 2010, 4.20pm, Cathedral Gardens - Christchurch

One of the things I love about travelling with Ella is that we have been together for long enough now to know exactly what will make each other laugh. Nearly 4 months of living in each others' pockets 24/7 means that we have developed a synchronised sense of humour that often seems strange to outsiders. It's only comparable to the relationship I have with my sister, 16 years of growing up in the same house have meant that me and my darling Emily will simultaneously explode into hilarity at things which other people remain stonily un-tickled by. With Ells Bells, Bella, Bellaboo, Ella Wella (miraculously she doesn't protest at any of these pseudonyms and terms of affection I have placed on her), these moments of sheer pant-wetting chuckling come from stimuli that in all honesty, are very ordinary, and not subjects of humour for regular discerning comics.

Today on the big green bus, driving along from Queenstown back to Christchurch, we stopped momentarily at a road block. In a field next to the bus was a flock of white sheep - nothing unusual about that. In a field directly adjacent, but segregated from the main flock by a fence, was one solitary black-faced sheep. 'That sheep is all on it's own', my companion commented. 'Well yes Ella', I said, 'it's the Black Sheep of the family. They have to keep her separate otherwise she'll be a bad influence on the others.' This started the giggling, I am regrettably not adverse to laughing at my own jokes. Amongst our giggles we then noticed that this black sheep was staring at us intently. Not at the bus, but at me and Ella, it's gaze fixed solidly in our direction, feet fixed unmoving to the spot, it didn't even blink. The longer we sat there, and the longer the sheep held it's focus on us, the funnier it got. It's eyes did not move, and the spectacle was made comparably more amusing by the fact that all of the sheep in the other field were mindlessly grazing away, unaware of anything other than the patch of greenery at the end of their noses.

'That is one suspicious sheep', I noted, and aided my description with a wide-eyed, one eyebrow raised, scowling, pouting imitation of our black faced friend. 'What's she suspicious of?', Ella asked. 'Of the bus, of us. She's stuck in that field all on her lonesome while we're travelling around her country where sheep outnumber us 9 to 1. If there's one sheep that's going to lead the rebellion, mark my words, it'll be that Suspicious Sheep.' Well, we were infinitely amused by this notion, and were soon howling uncontrollably. On a coach full of sleeping, hungover passengers, we struggled to stifle our laughter as tears rolled down our cheeks. Once we start on something like this, it's very hard for us to stop.

Maybe it was the booze still in our system from the night before, maybe we were creating entertainment out of boredom, maybe we're both brain dead; all distinct possibilities. Just as we were coming close to containing ourselves and quietening down, the bus pulled away. As it did, the Suspicious Sheep stood stock still, and moved her head slowly in our direction, following us away up the road with her eyes, mechanically twisting her neck to watch us for as long as she could. And that, well that just set us off again. We laughed ourselves into hysteria all the way to Christchurch until we couldn't remember what we were laughing about anymore. Good to give in to nonsense occasionally, it's a real fortitude to have someone with me who looks for humour in the mundane as much as I do.