Fridays are different. Every other day of the week,the Colonel and his ailing wife fight a constant battle against poverty and monotony, scraping together the dregs of their savings for the food andmedicine that keeps them alive. But on Fridays the postman comes – and that sets a fleeting wave ofhope rushing through the Colonel s ageing heart. For fifteen years he s watched the mail launch come into harbour, hoping he ll be handed an envelope containing the army pension promised to him allthose years ago.

Whilst he waits for the cheque, his hopes are pinned on his prize bird and the upcoming cock fighting season. But until then the bird – like the Colonel and his wife – must some how be fed. . .