The time Grandad crossed the Atlantic with a parrot hidden in his coat

It was 1962 and my grandfather Edward was moving from Boston to London with everything he owned in one suitcase. But there was a catch: Captain, the family parrot, had spent twenty years in the kitchen back home repeating bad words in four languages.

He couldn't leave him behind. So he did what any reasonable grandfather would do: tucked him into the inside pocket of his coat, gave him half a biscuit soaked in brandy to keep him sleepy, and prayed.

Captain slept right up until the plane began its descent into Heathrow — at which exact moment he decided to recite his entire repertoire of profanity, just as the stewardess walked past. My grandfather said, "That's the aircraft's internal warning system, miss." The stewardess did not laugh.

Captain lived another fourteen years in London. He learned to say "lovely" but never gave up the swearing.